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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25712692">The Path Less Traveled</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/InTheShadows/pseuds/InTheShadows'>InTheShadows</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Agent Carter (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Ana Jarvis Is a Good Bro, Aunt Peggy Carter, Banter, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Don't copy to another site, Edwin Jarvis is a good bro, Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, MIT Era (without actually being at MIT), Peggy Carter Is a Good Bro, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark, Teen Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark-centric, Urban Exploration, Vaguely Creepy Setting, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, Winteriron Bang 2020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:55:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>31,237</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25712692</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/InTheShadows/pseuds/InTheShadows</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony has done some stupid things in his life. He knows, he's been told that enough. They're right too, not that Tony would ever admit that to anyone. Some things are better left unsaid after all. Case in point, doing some urban exploring of New York's abandoned subway tunnels. Alone. With no one knowing where he is at. That is sure to spell disaster. Doesn't stop him from doing it though. <br/>The tunnels are the only place where he is able to get any peace. From Howard, from the tabloids, from everything. He's only home for summer break because he has to be. Because he's forced to be. If he doesn't have somewhere to retreat than he is going to go crazy. Mental health over physical in this case. And it's not like anything has ever happened before.<br/>He has no idea just how different this summer is going to be. Things are changing and he is going to be right in the middle of it all. Who said stranger danger is always a bad thing? It gets Tony more than he could ever imagine.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ana Jarvis &amp; Edwin Jarvis &amp; Tony Stark, Howard Stark &amp; Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes &amp; Tony Stark, Steve Rogers &amp; Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>150</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Winteriron Bang</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Path Less Traveled</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiliaNox/gifts">LiliaNox</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Alright, so here, finally, is my entry for the WinterIron Big Bang. The story kind of took on a life of it's own, but I had fun doing it. I got to work with the awesome LiliaNox, who drew me <a href="https://www.deviantart.com/lilianox/art/Eating-together-850444793">THIS</a> amazing piece of art. (Yes I still love it. Really I do.) <br/>The overall atmosphere is vaguely creepy. Not scary and not horror, but a bit spooky. Nothing that should scare anyone, but maybe give you chills? I originally started writing this back last October with an idea to maybe do something for Halloween. That obviously did not happen, but the atmosphere stayed the same. <br/>Small disclaimer, I've never been urban exploring or to New York and my experience with subways in general are limited. Any mistakes can and will be put down to author's creativity. Because I can.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tony has done some stupid things in his life. In fact, given the chance, he is sure that people would happily list all the things that they know of. Loudly and in great detail. Most of them have ended up in one tabloid or another after all. Rhodey would be at the front of the line – and the end to fill in any incidents that are missed. Because his best friend is thorough like that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Impulsive and self destructive he calls him. There might be something to that, not that he'll ever admit it. He might expect him to change then. Screw that. He's gotten by so far so why bother? He's clearly fine the way he is. Besides, who actually gives a shit about their lives anymore? Or is that his, er, </span>
  <em>
    <span>issues</span>
  </em>
  <span> that he pretends he doesn't have acting up again? Some days it's hard to tell. Or care, which may be another sign, but he ignores that too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So yes, he knows he can do some stupid shit when he puts his mind to it. Case in point – what he is doing right now. Urban exploring in the abandoned tunnels of the New York subway system. Alone. Not unarmed though because even he isn't that stupid. And not that he's seen anyone since he started this little adventure. His footsteps echo around him as he walks, eerily bouncing off the walls.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There are years of dirt, dust and litter down here just waiting to be rediscovered. Rusted tracks and empty cars and broken light bulbs. There is always something new to discover every time. Occasionally he's run into some homeless or fellow explorers, but it's never been anything he can't handle. It's worth it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His flashlight creates monsters from its shadows as it shines at odd angles when he moves it. It has the feel of a horror movie just waiting to happen. But it is also strangely peaceful, which is why he is down here to begin with. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peace. In the quiet with only himself as company Howard's words don't sound so loud in his ears. They had been ringing when he stormed out of the mansion earlier, but by now they are almost gone. So really, if he ends up getting murdered down here, it is Howard's fault, not his. How can he be blamed if he has to go to some ridiculous heights to get some inner peace with himself?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Inner peace. Ha! Sounds like a load of new age crap. Inner peace is for people who do not have the last name Stark. As the old man is so fond of saying 'Stark men are made of iron'. Usually right after Tony has disappointed him again. Too soft or too dumb or too loud or a million other things that he finds offensive. That doesn't really convey anything but 'suck it up and get on with it boy, no one wants a sissy'. Charming isn't it?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After this latest fight he couldn't stay in the mansion a minute longer so he grabbed a bag and left, Howard yelling at him as he did. This isn't the first time he has done this. He is always prepared. God why couldn't he have stayed at MIT like he wanted to instead of coming home? He would have gotten more work done, that's for sure.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But no, he had to spend his summer here instead of the apartment like he had been planning on. Because Howard needed him to play the perfect little son for the media. As if he gives a shit about any of that. Who cares? What are they going to say about it anyways? That Tony is a dedicated student, staying to work? Heaven forbid. Or, more likely, that he is staying to party and live in sin. That is more interesting after all. Sells more papers that way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sure Tony might like to party and drink and have sex like any other seventeen year old. Because he's just that – a seventeen year old boy. Of course those things interest him. But nowhere to the extent that he is made out to be. If the tabloids were to be believed, he had lived through five cases of alcohol poisoning and slept with the entire campus. Even Tony isn't that good.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Besides he's more likely to drunk engineer than anything else. He's come up with some pretty useful stuff that way. Half of Dum-E's code was written when he was drunk and he turned out fine. Ish. Mostly. Alright, so he's a little odd and a little clumsy, but he gets by.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That's beside the point anyways. The point is that the paparazzi are vultures and Howard can suck it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony jumps when his foot sends a rock flying. Laughing at his nerves, he looks around to make sure no one saw that even though he is alone. Obviously no one does. But there is an air about here that makes him want to check just in case. Creepy. He continues on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rhodey would yell at him so hard if he knew he did this during break. Which is exactly why he never will. It's not as if he can join him – he's busy with his own life without interfering constantly like he normally does at school – so why worry him? A waste of time on all sides.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He makes a final turn and comes upon one of the many abandoned cars. With a grin he throws open the door and hops in. The handle screeches when he pulls and the hinges resist from the rust, but it is still manageable. Inside the walls are covered with graffiti, showing that he isn't the first person here. Not by a long shot. Decades old newspaper crunches under his feet as he moves forward. A chill runs up his spine even as he grins in awe. Yeah, definitely a horror movie setting. It shouldn't feel as majestic as it does either, but that doesn't make it any less true.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a plop he takes a seat, disturbing who knows how many years of dust in the process. He coughs, waving it away before opening his bag and pulling out a protein bar. Like he said, he always comes prepared. As he eats, he glances over the latest schematics he has in his notebook. Another weapon assignment for SI. Because even if Howard refuses to admit it, the Board knows who the true genius is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It makes him both undeniably proud and queasy. The former because of the positive attention he secretly craves that he will never get elsewhere. Not from where he wants certainly. People always assume he has an ego because he is always getting praised for his genius. But all that is are meaningless words meant to impress and manipulate him into doing more. They aren't genuine. There's no warmth behind them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The latter because weapons are never what he wanted to do. He likes explosions, sure. Blowing shit up is a great outlet when you need one. Plus it's fun. But weapons? Bombs? They keep the troops safe sure, but what about the collateral damage that no one likes to talk about? The innocent lives in the way, the accidents, the smuggling business that no one is ever immune to. Isn't there another way?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony's real joy is in robotics. Howard can call it a waste of time all he wants, but Tony knows that if he's given the chance he can make SI even greater with it. Not that he's ever listened to about that. His ideas are pushed to the side, just like everything else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He leans back, letting the cool of the metal sink through his jacket and into his skin. Maybe he should be working on something else if this 'inner peace' is his goal, but at least here he can work without anyone looking over his shoulder. Or breathing down his back. Plus the final plans are due tomorrow and there will be even more hell to pay if they are late. Which means finishing now before he finally goes back to the mansion. Not home. Never home. It never has been, not in the way it matters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something moves in the corner of his eye and he quickly turns around to look. He's expecting to see another person or a rat or something, but there's nothing there. Thinking that it's his imagination getting the best of him, he goes back to work. Chewing on the end of his pencil he makes the necessary corrections. He needs to make an adjustment here so that it won't-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something moves again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alright, once is a coincidence, twice is a pattern. Slowly and cautiously Tony puts his notebook away and stands. He doesn't call out because really? What kind of idiot responds to that? If it were someone innocent then they would have said something the first time. The metal bracelets on his wrists are a comforting weight as he carefully walks to the exit, ears straining to hear anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing, but that doesn't mean there isn't anything there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he shines his light outside, he sees that he is still alone. There is no one else here. Not that he can tell. Still he holds his one hand at the ready, just in case. He's even happier now that he is wearing the boots that he is. A quick escape is possible if he ends up needing one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But nothing moves and nothing else makes a sound. Maybe it really is his imagination acting up. Tesla knows he's heard that he's too sensitive enough times before. Maybe it's just the atmosphere that is getting to him. It's been known to happen before. The accusations wouldn't be... exactly wrong unfortunately. He's gotten better over the years at hiding it, but that doesn't make it any less true.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Time to move out in any case. There isn't going to be anymore relaxing for him. What he needs now is the sun and people to throw off his nerves. A good walk in the park. He can grab a hot dog from one of the stands and find a nice tree to sit under. Yeah, that sounds like a great idea.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The echoes of his footsteps have taken a new meaning now. Each one is a sinister signal, a sign that someone is right behind him. He half expects to hear footsteps when he pauses to check. Nothing. The entire way, there is nothing there. He tries hard to convince himself that the eyes he feels on him are just his imagination playing games with him. That doesn't stop him from making sure he is ready to fight back as needed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It doesn't work. By the time he is gone and out into the busy street, his heart is beating hard enough to break through his chest. His hands are sweaty and his breath comes in short pants. Still nothing happens. He made it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gives a nervous laugh as he walks away. Made it, right. As if he was in any danger to begin with. Damn, why is he such a baby at times? Why can't he be a man and stop this childishness? He should have grown out of it years ago. Honestly. No matter how hard he tries though, he can't help shake the feeling that he just escaped something. What he hasn't a clue. But his hare brain still insists that he wasn't the only one in that tunnel by the end.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get a grip on yourself,” he mutters as he joins the flow, making his way to the closest park entrance. The sun chases away the last of the chill, warming his skin as he walks. Before long he has followed through with his plan, hot dog in hand, sitting under a big tree. He leans against the trunk with a sigh. “What the hell?” he continues to mutter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What was that back there? It's never taken him this long to calm down before. There is still a small tremor to his limbs as the adrenaline wears off. Was he in that bad of a head space that nothing set him off like that? He didn't think so, but obviously he was wrong.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wiping his hand on the grass he once again pulls out his notebook and gets to work. It only takes him a few more minutes to finish before he can close the book with a sigh of relief. Done. He puts it away and pulls out his book with his own projects in it. The ones no one will ever get their hands on until he has built the final product. There's no rhyme or reason to his designs. They range anywhere from robots to better tech than that crap Apple sells. Things that will help instead of destroy. He even has some better body armour and such to appease the military. Something to show them that see, Tony is still willing to work with them, just not in the same way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Green energy is such an underdeveloped field right now that Tony is determined to revolutionize it. To make people's lives that much easier. Better water filters, renewable energy, equipment to make it easier for small farmers working the land.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And what about exploration? More is known about space than the deep sea. What if he can change that? What if he can ensure the safety of astronauts so that they can get back into space? That particular program has been sadly lacking these past years. There is just so much that he'd love to try and not one of them involves bombs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Naive on his part maybe, but that's what he thinks. No one is going to make the world a better place if no one tries. Alright, he's definitely naive about some things, but then he's extremely bitter about others, so it evens out fairly well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time he finally makes his way back home, the mansion is dark and quiet inside. There are no lights on so that it is only possible to see from the dying light coming through the windows. No one moves because there is no one around to move. It strangely seems to echo like the subway tunnel he was in earlier. The thought is enough to make a chill run up his spine. Logically he knows that it's all nonsense. But he also knows that there is more to be scared about here than in the subway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The worst that can happen there is that someone will kill him for his stuff. Here? Best not think about the worst that could – and will – happen here. Ironically he prefers thoughts of the former to the latter. Problems of a young rich boy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first thing he does when he gets back to his room is tear out the finished plans and seal them in a vanilla envelope. Then silently he goes and slides them under Howard's door. Nothing moves and he breathes out a sigh of relief. He's probably still in the lab. He retreats back to safety feeling like a coward, but not enough to tempt fate by lingering. He'll do that another day when his nerves aren't shot to hell.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once the door locks, including his own system to make sure it stays that way, Tony relaxes. There. For all Howard's genius he's yet to be able to break the lock. It might make things worse for Tony when he comes out, but it is worth it to have a safe space here. Besides to get mad about the lock Howard has to know that it's there. Most of the time he doesn't put the effort into it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony strips out of his clothes, letting them fall as they will, and steps into the shower. The warm water hitting his skin instantly makes him feel better, as if he is washing this crap day off of him. He stands under it a long time before he finally steps outs and slings a towel around his waist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He only bothers to change into boxers, letting the water from his wet hair run down his back. He collapses onto his bed with a sigh and stares up at the ceiling. Inevitably his mind goes back to the subway. Now that it is over, he feels stupider than ever about freaking out down in the tunnels, which is likely why he can't stop thinking about it. The odd part about it is part of his brain still insists that there was someone else there. No matter that he never saw anyone. No matter that it was most probably his imagination. Part of his brain insists that he was not alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fair enough he supposes, it could have been a homeless person, checking him out. Or maybe someone else who was just as freaked out as Tony was. The thing is he doesn't believe that. The energy he felt was... not hostile, but charged. Something to be wary of. Yeah now he definitely sounds new age, talking about energy like that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Today must be an off day all around. Best to just forget about it and move on. It's not like thinking about it now is going to solve anything. He closes his eyes, but he knows that he isn't going to be able to sleep yet. His thoughts are still circling too fast. Groping he finds the notebook he always keeps beside his bed for just this purpose and begins to work. It takes a couple of hours, long after the sun has set and Tony turns on the light attached to his bed – also for this purpose – that he finds his eyes growing heavier. He finishes the equation he is on, closes the book and then closes his eyes. Within moments he is asleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's just too bad he doesn't stay that way for long because he jerks awake with a gasp. His room is lit by the predawn light. His heart is beating a fast tempo in his chest as he tries to regain his balance. Just a dream. It was only just a dream. Nothing like that happened in the tunnel. Nothing was there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This is getting ridiculous. If he doesn't stop now he is going to end up putting a block up in his mind regarding the place and he won't want to go back. He is already leery of the idea. He can't let that happen because he needs somewhere to go when he flees here. Somewhere that he won't be crowded by people and he can hear himself think. Relax. Not have to put up any fronts or masks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right now he desperately wishes that he was back at MIT with Rhodey. Even hearing his breathing in his sleep, knowing he was there, would have helped. Unfortunately Tony has always had a problem with nightmares. Ever since he can remember, monsters and voices followed him in his sleep – when he could sleep that is. Insomnia has also always been a problem. But after he first met Rhodey, and especially after he roomed with him, the nightmares got easier to bear if he knew he had someone who cared close by. He doesn't exactly have that here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The closest he has is Jarvis, but he would never dream of disturbing him now. For one thing he isn't a little kid anymore to be running off to someone else's bed. For another thing he hates to bother him when he and Ana get so little peace during the day. Between working and Howard there isn't much of that at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he rolls out of bed and leans against the window watching the sun rise. Slowly as he does he calms again as the sky lights up from red and purple and pink to blue. He isn't really one for finding beauty in nature but he can admit that this is beautiful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not useful though. He has been taught that only useful things should be appreciated. If you can't use it in some way it should be gotten rid of. It's not worth your attention. Things have to be proven worthy of your time. With a sigh he turns away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right now what he would really appreciate is a cup of coffee. A couple cups of coffee. Maybe a coffee pot full. That would work.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Quietly he opens the door and listens. Silence. No one else is awake yet. Good. He slips out the room on silent feet and makes his way to the kitchen. Once there he starts brewing and searches out the largest thermos he keeps just for this purpose. There is always one in the kitchen and one in his room, just in case. He grabs some snacks as he waits, foot bouncing on the tile floor. He's not really one for breakfast but who knows when he'll come out again. He tends to get lost in his work and forgets to surface for hours on end. Having something on hand helps. It's more likely he'll eat then if he has something close by.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The coffee finishes and he pours it into the thermos before rinsing it out and replacing it. Then he makes his escape back up to his room and locks the door again. There. He is all set for a while. Setting everything down he throws on an old top and jeans and then gets to work.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A couple of hours into it, it looks as if he is sitting in the middle of a tornado. Books and notebooks and tools lay scattered all around him. Pieces of wire and metal and other parts he needs are mixed in with the mess. Tony's hair is an even greater disaster than when he first woke up from his habit of running his hand through it. He mutters under his breath as he works, mind spinning and pencil scrawling across the page. Since he is the only person that is going to read it, it is a mess.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His penmanship is only neat when he intentionally makes it that way. Boarding school had to be good for something after all. But when no one else has to read it is a mixture of 'chicken scratch', shorthand and numbers that make no sense to anyone else. Pity the poor soul who tries to decipher his notes. It's even worse if he decides to write in code, which he sometimes does. Paranoia is only a problem when someone isn't out to get you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A knock on the door startles him out of his thoughts. “Master Anthony, are you going to join us for lunch today or will you be having your meal in your room again?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony relaxes. Jarvis. He gets up and answers the door. “Hey Jay,” he grins, “how's it going?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jarvis eyes Tony's unkempt appearance with an air of disapproval. “It is going well. It will be just the three of us,” he continues, “Mr Stark refuses to come out of the lab and Mrs Stark will be attending a luncheon with some of the other ladies who are organizing the latest charity event.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bless Jarvis for answering a question Tony hasn't even asked yet. “Sure Jay, sounds great. What's on the menu today?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well Ana is cooking so something Hungarian as usual,” is his answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ah, the staple food of Tony's childhood. Forget traditional hot dogs and hamburgers. Food tends to be much more exotic around here when his parents don't have to eat it. Jarvis cooks English food and Ana cooks Hungarian – and kosher of course. A habit that has followed Tony at MIT even if he didn't realize it. Rhodey had been the one to point it out and ask. Honestly Tony forgets about it most of the time, being so used to it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He comes into the kitchen to the smell and sight of Ana's cooking. “Tony,” she grins happily at him, “come to join us for today then? Good, I cooked enough for an army.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Again,” Jarvis mutters but then smiles when Ana looks at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What was that darling?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing my dear.” He walks over and kisses her cheek, “Just waiting with anticipation as always.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course Mr Jarvis.” She gives him a look that says exactly how much she believes him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony turns away to laugh. If there is a reason he believes in love and marriage at all, it is because of Ana and Jarvis. Howard and Maria's marriage may be a disaster waiting to happen, but with Ana and Jarvis, the love between them is practically tangible. It's nice to see that not everyone is as cynical and rough as the Starks are. It's almost enough to give him hope that maybe he'll find that someday. But likely not because he </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> a Stark.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That isn't something he wants to think about though so he pushes that thought away. Time to focus on now. As the three of them sit down to eat Tony can almost fool himself into thinking that this is how it is meant to be. He is sitting with his parents, enjoying a meal together. Lovelace knows that he's had more meals with the Jarvis' than with his own parents. That the Jarvis' raised him more than his own parents ever did. Maria tries, he knows she does. And he knows that she loves him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But some women do not have the mothering instinct – Maria is one of them. It's better now that he is older and can interact with her more, but it still isn't a close bond that children and their mothers are supposed to have. Ana, on the other hand, has more mothering instincts than three women. Which makes it even more sad that she can never have children of her own. Tony knows she would make a wonderful mother.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The less said about Howard, on the other hand, the better.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what has my favorite mad scientist been creating today?” Ana asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And that's another thing – they know more about Tony's projects and creations than Howard ever will. Because they ask. Because they care. They may not be able to understand half of what comes out of Tony's mouth, but they still listen anyways. Bless them. He's also especially fond of Ana's nickname for him. 'Mad scientist' indeed. Without pause he begins to describe his new project – a better solar panel before going off on a tangent about robotics which of course leads to complaining about Dum-E and things dissolve from there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Speaking of his disaster of an AI, he hopes he's alright. Rhodey promised to look after him since there was no way Tony was bringing him home. He can imagine Howard's response vividly enough to know that it would go down in flames. Dum-E is advanced for an AI, but he still has a hell of a way to go before he doesn't fumble around with simple tasks. He's still learning after all. But Tony can see Howard demanding Tony take him apart and build something better. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Like hell</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He isn't exactly sure what his reaction would be to that demand, but he knows it wouldn't be pretty. Or peaceful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dum-E doesn't need to be exposed to that so he is staying right where he is. That doesn't mean he isn't worried though. The amount of trouble that bot can get into is unreal. And the habits Rhodey is potentially teaching him. Yeah, he is right to worry. Still that won't solve anything so he pushes it away for now and focuses on the conversation in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can't wait to meet him,” Ana says, “he sounds exactly like something you would build. And this boy of yours too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes you will have to bring this young man home one of these times,” Jarvis agrees.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony fights down a blush. He is a Stark – he has no shame and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>does not</span>
  </em>
  <span> blush. Not for anyone. Still doesn't mean he has to stop himself when they say things like that. “Rhodey is just my roommate. I've told you that before.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Jarvis nods, “I do distinctly recall you saying such. Of course the fact that you were calling him 'honey bear' at the time might have given me mixed signals.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or sugar plum dear, do not forget that one,” Ana continues to tease, “Or sour patch, or –“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” Tony says, “so I have questionable taste in nicknames. We already knew that before so let's not get carried away now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course not Master Anthony,” Jarvis says with a solemn nod, “we would not dream of it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The affect is ruined when Ana lets out a light giggle before covering her mouth with her hand. “I do believe dessert is ready. Shall I bring it out?” Without waiting for an answer she gets up from the table and goes into the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hate you both,” Tony grumbles, “Rhodey is just a friend. Besides even if I wanted something more – which I don't,” he adds quickly, “he's going into the Air Force. I wouldn't risk him getting in trouble with the stupid DADA rule.” It’s the truth too. Okay, so maybe he had a crush on Rhodey at first, but it didn’t stick. It was puppy love more than anything else. Now their relationship is solid and solely platonic, no matter what other people might think. Or tease. Rhodey is the most important person in Tony’s life, practically. Who needs romance compared to that? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I know one thing about Starks after all these years, it is that possessiveness is a common thing. It matters not whether that person is merely a friend or someone more. However much you may dislike it, you share that trait with your father. The both of you tend to claim people and then never let them go. It would be nice to finally meet the young man who has captured your attention so thoroughly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fortunately Ana comes back in with dessert just then and the topic is dropped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because what could Tony say to that really? That it isn't true? That's a lie and they both know it. Rhodey may have been his first - only -  friend, but that doesn't mean Tony hasn't claimed anyone before – Jarvis and Ana are a perfect example of that. So is Aunt Peggy when she isn't too busy with her job. He tends to cling to them more than he should. He tries not to so that they will not get sick of him so quickly, but that doesn't work as well as he likes. He still clings too tightly – when he isn't pushing everyone away that is. Because they will abandon him eventually anyways. Why wait for them to make the first move? Yeah he knows how fucked up his head is thanks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When lunch is finished he goes back to his room and locks the door. It doesn't take long for him to lose himself back in his work. Numbers fly through his head and his fingers spin wires and tools in a whirlwind as he moves. This – this right here – is what he was born to do. To create. To make something out of nothing. Not to destroy or kill or anything else that the world wants from him. If only he could do this for the rest of his life and forget about everything else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Too bad it doesn't work that way. Something he is reminded of the next morning when he makes an ill timed coffee run. Howard is already up and waiting for him. Unfortunately he is spotted before he can retreat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anthony,” Howard says flatly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony nods, not in the mood to talk yet. He had stayed up too late last night, working. And when he finally did get to sleep nightmares woke him up again a few hours later. He is still groggy and a little bit shaky from its aftereffects. Thoughts only half online and composure not completely put together yet </span>
  <em>
    <span>he is not in the mood</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Too bad that never matters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look at me when I talk to you boy,” Howard barks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony makes a show of rolling his eyes when he faces him, making a mockery of military attention. He knows he's doing it right because Howard growls at him. And because he had Rhodey show him the correct way to do it, just so he could mess it up. He's thorough like that after all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don't give me that attitude. Just because you wouldn't know respect if it bit you on the ass doesn't mean you have to be such a little shit about it all the time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Was there something you wanted Sir?” Tony asks, just wanting to get out of there. This is going to end badly, he can see it already.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I received your plans for the SI57 missile – if you can even call it that. I was up half the night fixing your mistakes. What were you thinking messing around with the propulsion system like that? Do you want to blow up our own troops instead of the enemy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh no he didn't. He did not just insult all of Tony's hard work like that. But of course he did. Because heaven forbid he ever appreciate anything Tony did. Bad enough that he forced Tony to build it to begin with. Now he is throwing everything away like that? Typical. “I was thinking I can improve the system – and I did! I ran the stimulation myself. It works fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” Howard snorts, “fine he says as if I can't see the numbers myself. You will never get the clearance you need to be able to safely set it off. Did you even bother to calculate the friction in at all or were you too busy playing with your other useless toys?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony makes an offended noise in the back of his throat. No, this isn't going to end well at all. “Of course I did. That was the first thing I did! Which is why I reworked the shape to compensate for it. It's a sleeker design so it can move faster now. Or did you ignore that part of the plan?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Watch your tone. The design is even more useless than your so called improvements. The shell isn't strong enough to withstand that kind of speed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Which is why you need to make it out of a different alloy. Which is </span>
  <em>
    <span>also</span>
  </em>
  <span> included in my notes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Howard glares at him fiercely, “what </span>
  <em>
    <span>you need</span>
  </em>
  <span> is to stop trying to prove your so damn clever and give me something I can actually use. The military – the entire country – is counting on Stark Industries to provide top of the line weapons to keep our troops safe. I need something that is reliable that will sell. But instead you give me this shit that I have to completely rework before I can even show it to anyone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“SI will be yours one day and do you even care? No. You'll just run it into the ground because you're too busy dreaming and whining about how unfair life is. You want to know about unfairness? Try being a poor son of a poor immigrant who had to claw his way up the ladder to get where he is. I worked myself to the bone to build this company. What do you have to do? Give me some decent designs and then go on your way. You don't know the meaning of hard work. You don't know what it is like to fight just to survive. You're so spoiled you think you have it hard dealing with a little criticism.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony leans against the wall and deliberately rolls his eyes. As if he hasn't heard this lecture a thousand times before. He can probably recite it in his sleep by now. How stupid he is. How spoiled. How lucky he is never having to work like dear old daddy dear had to. How he'll never measure up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes – that right there is what I'm talking about. No respect at all. Just a bad attitude, that's all you are. You're lucky I'm not my own father. He would have beat that attitude out of you long ago. You think </span>
  <em>
    <span>I'm</span>
  </em>
  <span> hard on you? Ha! This is nothing to the old man. Be grateful for once in your life.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because that makes everything so much better. He gets screamed at and verbally abused regularly but hey, he isn't being beaten so what is he complaining about?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is the point of you even going to MIT if you aren't going to learn anything? Instead you spend all your time whoring around and wasting your potential. Disgusting brat. If I ever behaved like you do I wouldn't have SI at all, I would still be stuck in the Lower East End. Where would you be then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hopefully not born, but Tony has enough sense not to say that little quip out loud. It would only make things worse instead of better.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about this military friend of yours? I'd think you take this seriously at least for him. But I guess you don't care that much at all. Not that it's a surprise that he's just another toy for you to play with. Have you fucked him yet or has he decided he's too good for sloppy seconds?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Part of Tony is shocked that Howard remembered Rhodey at all, let alone that he was going into the Air Force. When has he ever remembered anything that went on in Tony's life? The rest of him sees red. Typical that the one thing the old man remembers is designed specifically to hurt him. Or thoroughly piss him off in this case. He will take a number of things, but abuse about Rhodey is not one of them. “Oh you mean like you never got to fuck Captain America?” he asks, going for one of the lowest blows possible. Never let it be said that Tony does anything by half.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Howard's face turns an alarming shade of red. “How dare you sully his name like that. Steve Rogers is a greater man than you'll ever be. He is worth </span>
  <em>
    <span>a hundred</span>
  </em>
  <span> of you. More than you can ever dream of being. You think you're so clever? You think you know everything wise guy? Steve would be disgusted if he ever met you. He's a real hero – a real man. Not whatever the fuck you are you little shit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think you mean 'was'. Because he's dead. You do remember that right? Steve Rogers is dead because he flew his plane into the Arctic ocean. Like an idiot,” he can't help adding. Nothing like adding gas to the fire.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like a hero – something you'll never be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony holds his head up proudly. “Good,” he says clearly and steadily before turning heel and leaving. He ignores Howard's shouting of 'get back here you brat I'm not done with you' and goes to his room. As if on auto pilot he grabs everything he needs and leaves, front door slamming behind him. At the first coffee shop he finds he orders the most caffeinated drink they'll give him, flirts outrageously and tips ridiculously well. There's no point in taking his shitty mood out on them after all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His feet carry him to his destination without any input from his brain. He distantly recognizes the frame of mind he is in, but it doesn't particularly bother him. Nothing can touch him like this. The world seems far away even as he walks through the masses. Their noise and their presence barely register as he makes his way down into the abandoned tunnels beneath their feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He flicks his flashlight on as he walks. None of the atmosphere of last time is there as he walks. Probably because he is barely there himself. It is only when he sits down in one of the cars does the world rush back into focus. It happens so quickly that Tony practically chokes on it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck,” he whispers as he coughs. He buries his head into his hands and sighs, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he repeats with feeling. He hates when that happens. Not because it isn't particularly useful because it is. It gets him out and away from the situation without falling apart. It holds onto him when it isn't safe to be anything but composed and distant. It is a shield that nothing can break through. He is safe like that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it also drains him both emotionally and physically. Disassociation is great until he has to come back to the world. Then all the emotions of the situation crash over him. Whatever he should have been feeling ambushes him all at once, leaving him a mess. And right on time, they come. His limbs begin to shake as he digs through his bag for a protein bar. He tears into it desperately trying not to fall apart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew that conversation would go wrong. Is there any other conclusion when Howard talks to him? No. No there isn't. Either he is there constantly criticizing his work or he's absent – working, building or looking for his precious Captain. His precious hero.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well he can have him. Let him be satisfied when he finally finds a corpse. See how Tony looks then compared to that. Oh who is he kidding. He'll still lose. Because no matter how long Steve Rogers is dead, he will still be more important than Tony. Always.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Always second best. Never enough. Story of his life. Frankly he's sick of it. So damn sick of it that he could choke on it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Has</span>
  </em>
  <span> choked on it. Nothing he'll ever do will be enough to Howard. He will forever be wanting until the old man dies. Even then he doubts anything will change. Forever in the shadow of a dead man.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He spills some of his bars on the floor, hands shaking, but can't be bothered to pick them up. Can't be bothered to move. Can barely bother to breathe. If it wasn't an automatic human function then right in that moment he'd stop. Just stop until he passed out and ended it all. It would be better that way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lovelace is he in a mood right now. Tony isn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> suicidal. Even if his reasoning is spite he refuses to die without proving himself first. If not to Howard then the world. And if all else fails, then himself. Show that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> do it. Naive or not he can change the world – whether it wants to be changed or not. He will make an impact. He will. Who says spite can't be a motivator? Sickeningly optimistic people obviously. Only a fool thinks everything is going to turn out alright.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ugh, no, that still sounds terrible. He sighs as he leans against the seat. His head hits the window with a thud. Happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts. Peter Pan it or some shit. That's a thing right? Popular culture says it is. He'd like to say he knows from personal experience, but he doesn't. Why would he be allowed to waste time on childish shit like that?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, bad Tony. Happy thoughts. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Happy thoughts</span>
  </em>
  <span> damn it. Why is this so hard? No, wait, don't answer that. He knows exactly why and it won't help his train of thoughts in the least so best avoid it. In the end he does what he always does to calm down – he codes. He loses himself in the numbers as expressions and possibilities fly across the page. Creating the things no one thinks possible. He's good at that. At least he's good at that, even if no one else bothers to recognize it. He knows. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He knows his shit works even if others refuse to see what is right in front of them. Their loss, not his, for being so blind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One day he will take SI to greater heights. Heights like no one has ever seen before. Then they'll see. They'll know then. Until that day he'll keep all his best ideas – his best technology – to himself. He's already accomplished more than Howard can ever dream of and he has no idea. And he never will until it is completely and utterly untouchable to him. Then he'll see. Then he can bleed from envy and anger. See how he likes that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A noise startles him out of his trance. He jerks up, expecting to see something – or someone. But just like last time there is nothing there. “Fucking Tesla,” he mutters under his breath. Not this again. If he wasn't in the mind space to be dealing with it last time, now is even worse. Honestly just screw his imagination. Still better safe than dead so he gets up to check. Slowly he shines his light out around the tunnel in front of him. Nothing just like he suspected.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great,” he complains as he sits back down, “as if I didn't need another reason to think I'm going insane. Great bloody fuck.” His accent slips into something more proper even if the words aren't. Because why not pick up an English accent from Jarvis and Aunt Peggy when he's stressed enough? Why not? There's worse things at least, but still, it's a tell. One he can't afford to have. Fortunately it doesn't come out that often. And, so far, never when anyone else is around.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turns back to his notebook, but the moment has been ruined. He can't get back into his work. Part of his mind is still listening for another sound. The back of his neck prickles in unease. He should work through it. He should ignore this ridiculous idea that someone is watching and keep on working. But he can't because of his bloody imagination. If this is going to become a thing then he's going to be so pissed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That doesn't stop him from packing up his things and getting the hell out of there though. Just like last time the feeling of eyes watching doesn't leave him until he is away and out among people again. His limbs are no longer shaking, but he still feels tender for lack of a better term so he ducks into the first restaurant he sees that looks like it sells deep fried anything. Just what the doctor ordered – some good greasy food to chase everything away. It's the universal cure. Good for hangovers, heart breaks and overall comfort food.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soon he is inhaling a big pile of fries with an obnoxious amount of cheese and chilli dumped on top of them. Then there is the chocolate milkshake to wash it all down with. Absentmindedly he pulls out his notebook and continues to work as he eats. Dum-E is a great first step in building the most advanced AI the world has ever seen, but he knows he can do better. He can always do better. There is always room for improvement, no matter what. Once again he loses himself in the numbers only coming to when a waitress tells him they are closing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He jumps, not expecting it. His heart beat picks up at the small startle. Ridiculous. “Sorry about that.” He gives her a big smile, a bigger tip and then leaves before she can say anything else. Can he get anymore pathetic? Then he grimaces because that is one of those questions you should never ask. This one comes only right after 'can things get any worse?'. Because the answer is yes. Always. No matter what it can </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> get worse. Tony knows from very personal experience just how true that is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once again when he walks in the front door everything is dark and silent. Good. The last thing he needs is Howard laying in wait for him to come home. He doubts his nerves could take the encounter right now. Still he listens carefully as he walks to his room, but he doesn't hear anything. Silence reigns in the Stark residence once again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Throwing the lock closed he throws himself on the bed with a sigh. He feels so out of sorts lately. Then again, being back here – in this house, in this environment – it's enough to have this exact effect on him. During his time away at MIT he got used to not having to deal with this. To being in a different – better – place. Here ghosts roam and the shadows are waiting to swallow you whole. Which sounds dramatic if Tony was talking about figurative ones, but no. He's talking about the living ones. The ones that live side by side with him everyday. So still dramatic, but no less true.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What he really needs is to get out of here. Go back to his apartment and Dum-E and Rhodey and leave all of this behind. That is likely the only thing that is going to help his mental state at this point. Just getting away. Too bad that is impossible right now. Not as long as Howard has any say in his life. Normally he has no problem saying 'fuck you' to Howard, but seeing as he is still a minor Howard can say 'fuck you' back and mean it. He can take everything away that Tony has ever cared for. So he can't. And summer break is still months from being over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Rhodey wonders why Tony is so fucked up. Well no, he doesn't wonder because he knows. Some of it anyways. There is no way Tony is ever going to expose him to the full level of disaster that is his home life. That would be a horrible idea. Normally Tony likes those, but not this one. This one is too bad even for him. Rhodey would probably end up punching Howard or something and then where would they be?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Bad idea.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rolls over and closes his eyes, not bothering to undress. He toes his boots off and buries his head into the pillows. Maybe tomorrow will be better. He snorts bitterly. Right. As if he ever gets that lucky.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Predictably his sleep is filled with nightmares of shadows chasing him, trying to eat him. He tosses and turns in a desperate attempt to escape them. By the time morning comes he has been waking off and on for the better part of three hours. It's hardly what he calls restful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even when he finally gives up on sleep he doesn't get up right away. He doesn't want to. He doesn't want to face the world today. And really who would miss him? Not Howard unless he wants to yell at Tony some more. Ana and Jarvis, but they're used to him disappearing some days to work. His mother has her latest charity gala coming up so she'll be extra busy until that is over. She might say hello to him if she sees him and ask how his day is going, but that's about it. Other than that? No one. Not a damn other person would care whether or not Tony got out of bed today. How very sad.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rich boy problems.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually he drags himself up though, if only in a vain attempt to shut his mind up. Because wouldn't it be great if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn't</span>
  </em>
  <span> have to deal with this right now? Or ever? Never having to deal with this would be great too. Tony would totally take that. Alas if only it were so. It means he's in a foul mood when he stumbles into the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jarvis is already there, making breakfast. The smell of food makes Tony grimace. Oh look, it seems as an added bonus for today, food is going to turn his stomach. Yippee. He sits down with a thud and a scowl.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jarvis takes one look at his face and turns on the kettle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boy oh boy. Tea. Because Jarvis is convinced that tea helps everything. Well good on him, but Tony is beyond help. Has been for years now. Maybe he has always been, since the day he was born. That would explain basically everything wouldn't it? Why bother with the defective kid when he's going to turn out wrong anyways? Yeah that really would explain things.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once the kettle begins to whistle shrilly Jarvis takes it off and pours the water into two mugs, letting the tea bags seep. Not store bought ones though. Oh no Jarvis makes his own tea blends. Claims that Americans won't know a good blend if it knocked on their door. Aunt Peggy has said the same before, but hers was a bit more explicit than that. Just because she rarely cusses doesn't mean she doesn't. It just means Tony has to try harder to catch her at it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once it's done seeping Jarvis takes out the bags and stirs in a frankly alarming amount of honey into one of the mugs. Experience has told Jarvis that this is the only way to get Tony to drink tea. It has to be sweet enough to rot your teeth out. Well this will certainly do the job. He takes a sip right away when it is placed in front of him. The warmth is a trail of fire all the way down to his stomach. He should probably let it cool, but he never does. Not with this and certainly not with his coffee.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jarvis doesn't say anything as he goes back to cooking. He hums lightly to himself under his breath, but that is all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony watches, the atmosphere finally catching up to him. Or maybe it's the tea. Either way something in him starts to settle. It doesn't take him out of the mood completely, but it helps. It always does. Bless Jarvis for knowing how to deal with him without saying a word.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Some toast perhaps?” he offers as he sits down across from him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony takes a slice, but he doesn't eat it, instead letting it cool on the plate in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jarvis begins to talk as he eats. Not about anything important. It's all stories of running the house and this and that and minor problems that come up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Truth be told Tony isn't really listening to the words themselves. It's the voice he is focusing on. That low steady voice, English accent very clear in every word. The same way it always is. In all of his seventeen years Tony has only heard Jarvis raise his voice twice. And both were for </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>good reasons. Jarvis is the eye of the storm in an otherwise chaotic household. How he manages it Tony will never know. He's known Howard for longer than Tony. That would be enough to make anyone scream. But not Jarvis.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He obviously has the patience of a saint. More so because he has to deal with two Starks now, not just one. One is bad enough. People have run away after dealing with one for less than five minutes at a time. It's a logical response really. Perfectly understandable. But not only is Jarvis Howard's butler, he has had a bigger part in Tony's life than Howard ever will. Two Starks equal twice the chaos, twice the headaches and twice the trouble, yet somehow he is still here. It's a miracle enough to almost make Tony believe in a greater power. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Almost.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where's Ana?” he asks, interrupting Jarvis mid sentence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Mistress required some help with a few things so Ana will be busy with that all this morning. And on the note Master Stark is currently getting ready for his next expedition. He plans on leaving by the end of the week.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony nods at this. It's no surprise really, he knew Howard was due to leave soon. It's only his luck that he has been around so long this far. Every summer he makes the journey up to the Arctic to see if he can find the Valkyrie. And Captain America himself, still on board. Every year without exception and without regret. Or maybe with regret that he hasn't found him yet, but that is all. Certainly he doesn't care about the time away from home. Away from his wife and child. He probably enjoys it. Maybe even time away from SI, but that is more debatable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not that it can't survive without him for a couple of months or so. He has everything arranged beforehand. And Uncle Obie can handle everything while he's away. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>trusts</span>
  </em>
  <span> Obie with SI even if he thinks Tony will somehow destroy it if he isn't there to watch. Whatever. As if he really cares about any of that. Howard can have it. And he can waste all the time he wants looking for a frozen corpse. It means he isn't here to bother him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he goes back to his room, tea drunk and toast half eaten, he collapses back onto his bed. Now what? The normal answer would be to create. To work on one of his many designs he has floating around in his head. But with his thoughts like this he isn't going to be able to get anything done. He knows from experience. Nor does he really want to lay in bed all day feeling sorry for himself even if there is some appeal to the idea. After all moving takes energy and he is positively drained right now. Then again staying here, not moving, letting these thoughts echo through his head, is only going to make things worse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No he knows exactly what he is going to do and it doesn't involve sitting in his room. He is going back to the tunnels and see if that can help shake him out of this mood. He needs to move now before he ends up spending the rest of the day here. That would probably be one of the worst things he could do right now. One of the problems with having a mind like his - it is entirely too easy to get lost in his head. Even dark thoughts. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Especially</span>
  </em>
  <span> dark thoughts. So he needs to move before they consume him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reluctantly he rolls off the bed and changes into jeans and a hoodie that he blatantly stole from Rhodey before he left for break. It still smells like him, but only very faintly now. Then he double checks his wrist bands and slips on his boots. Swinging his bag over his shoulder he mentally checks to make sure he has everything. He does. Time to get moving before the sight of his bed tempts him back into it, no matter how ill advised that might be. Apparently he’s especially good at following through with those according to certain people who shall not be named. Such rude, rude people. Where are their manners? Jarvis would be appalled.  Never mind that Jarvis would be one of those people saying it in the first place. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He slips out of the house quietly without any fanfare. No one sees him leave and most wouldn’t care even if they did.  Who cares where the little spoiled brat is going now? Up to no good obviously. Ugh. These are the exact kind of thoughts that he is trying to out run. Not very well if it’s only taken him mere seconds to start up again. Then again story of his life and all that shit. Determinedly he pushes everything away and pushes on. Running away from yourself never works, but why stop trying? Everyone has to have a hobby after all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With even less fanfare he slips below the surface and then into the tunnels. Once there he pauses just to take it all in. The silence. The sense that time doesn’t apply down here. Nothing does. It’s glorious. Even better is that it shocks him right out of his head. It’s like a weight is lifted off his shoulders and he can breathe again. Yes, this is exactly what he needed. Obviously this time home is messing with his head even more than he realized if this is all it takes to help shake him out of it. Ridiculous. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hates that other people have that much power over him. It shouldn’t be this way. He is Tony Stark after all. Screw the world. Too bad there is no easy way to deal with Howard, no matter how hard he tries. It’s just like the old bastard to make things difficult for Tony even in his own head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But no thinking about it here. Here it doesn’t matter. It’s like slipping down the hole into wonderland. It may not always make sense, but it’s as far from reality as you can get. His footsteps echo, sound bouncing off of the walls. Rather than spook him it reassures him. He’ll hear someone coming, same as they will hear him. And there is nothing here, save the sound of distant mice. Or rats. But hopefully mice because rats can be vicious things when they want to be. The results are never real pretty either. He is </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to tell Rhodey where that one scar on his leg came from. That’s a bad idea just waiting to happen. No thank you. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can feel himself sinking further into himself as he goes on. Not like before when it felt like he was drowning. This is a much more peaceful state of mind. One that lets him see past all his issues and just lets him be. It’s a shame he can’t sink into this mood all the time. It would make things so much easier. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But peaceful does not mean vigilant and so he turns his head around at the sound of a rock being knocked across the ground. Or that’s what it sounds like anyways. Shining the flashlight in that direction shows that nothing - or no one - is there. It makes Tony huff out a sigh. Not this again. Honestly. Shaking his head he continues on, straining to hear, just in case. Nothing. Not a thing. There isn’t even a sense that he is being watched. A repeat of the sound has Tony twisting around. Still nothing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“At least I’m not a virgin,” he mutters to himself, “they are always the ones who die first in these scenarios.” Not that it should matter a bit to the killer, but that’s Hollywood for you. The outcome of the movie can be predicted by the tropes they use. Still that doesn’t help slow his heart down from where it’s picked up its beat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be such a sissy,” he continues, “it’s just your imagination. Be a man about it.” Once again thank you Howard for the great advice. Ugh. A third time and he swings around to look. A squeak tells him just what has him freaked out. A mouse. Not even a full grown one at that. No wonder he missed it before it’s so tiny. He fights the urge to coo at it even as he exasperatedly sighs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See,” he says out loud, just to make it even more real, “nothing to worry about.” Feeling thoroughly like an idiot now and glad there is no one around to see him he presses on, more confidently now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It still takes some time before his heart rate comes back down though. When it does he starts to feel shaky. That’s what he gets for having an adrenaline rush over a damn mouse. He’d never live it down if anyone knew. The great Tony Stark, afraid of a baby rodent. Ha! Howard already thought him soft enough. Best not to confirm it for him. Being resigned to never making the old bastard proud is one thing - actively proving him right is a whole other ball game. One he likes to dance around, but hasn’t actually begun yet. Disapproval for imagined failure doesn’t count after all. He isn’t actively suicidal now is he? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At the next old platform he stops and hops up. The station sign that used to hang above it has long fallen. Now it sits covered in dust and the rest of aimless trash. Not that Tony needs the sign to tell him where he’s at. He’s still in territory he mapped a few summers ago. He takes out a protein bar and rips into it with his teeth. He hadn’t realized just how hungry he was until he started eating. One is gone quickly - too quickly - so he opens another one and eats. Then he takes a long drink of water and takes a moment to relax. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The quiet of the subway sinks into him. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> quiet. Not completely silent, but enough so that Tony knows that he is alone. Just like he wanted. No one else is here but him. This - this is what he came here for. No one here means no one to impress. No one to hide from with masks and words and sharp smiles. He can be whoever he wants because there is no one to see who he really is. That, quite frankly, is a gift worth Howard’s fortune and more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The limelight is only fun if you have your fifteen minutes in it. After that it gets tiring. Consuming. Celebrity culture is so weird. All these strangers, people Tony will never meet in his life, want to know all the details of his. Every detail they can, down to the smallest thing. As if it makes any sort of difference what he had for breakfast. Or what he wears when he goes out. They take and they judge and they talk. Why? What does it matter what he does? And when news is short, when he doesn’t do anything ‘interesting’ for them as if he is some kind of circus animal, well, no matter. They make something up. The more scandalous the better. Scandal is what sales after all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So is the price of being famous. People think they are entitled to your entire life. What details you won’t give them willingly they steal one way or another. Just because Tony is used to this doesn’t mean he doesn’t find it draining. It is, incredibly so. Dealing with it since birth just means he knows how to play the system. It means that he’s grown immune and callous for it to varying degrees. So what? So what does it matter what they write? They will never stop, never give up. It’s not as if they want him to be a good person, no matter what people talk about amongst themselves. No because then there wouldn’t be anything to read about. They want scandal and offense no matter what they claim. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good job Stark,” he snorts to himself, “these are the kind of thoughts you came down here to get away from. Good job.” Well time to keep moving if he’s just going to sit here and mope about shit instead. No use complaining about the inevitable. It’ll happen whether he likes it or not so why waste time crying about it? Weak. Be a man about it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hops down, kicking up a cloud of dust as he lands. It gets into his mouth and makes him cough. Annoyed he waves his hand to swat it away. Smooth move right there. He clears his throat and takes another sip of water before zipping up his bag. Then, flashlight firmly in hand, he continues. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There is no real pattern to the route he takes. That isn’t the point. The point is that he gets out and explores. When he comes to a fork in the tunnel he pauses. Briefly he debates if he wants to map a new area or if he wants to continue on a known and worn path. On the one hand new is always interesting. Always something new to see and climb on and explore. On the other hand, after a quick glance at his watch, he doesn’t have the time he would want to explore. Plus he isn’t sure he’s in the right head space for it. Better to stick with what he knows for now and come back another time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he takes a right and ends up at the old car where he’s recently finished those damned missile plans. Great just what he wants - another reminder of what he is trying to forget. Rather than going in he scales the side of it so that he can sit on the roof. It’s not all that comfortable and it is most definitely covered in dirt and dust, but he doesn’t care. He’s going to have to put these clothes in laundry no matter what he does. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Swinging his light around he takes in the view. Normally he is on ground level so he’s never seen what things look like from above. It definitely adds to the creepy affect, that’s for sure. There are new, longer, shadows that are cast as he moves the light. They stretch out before him as if he is above a sea of darkness. Shining the light up towards the ceiling means he loses the light before it connects. The darkness swallows it before it can reach the top. He can’t help the shiver that goes through him at that. It’s as if the shadows are just waiting to descend and swallow him whole. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shaking his head he points the flashlight back to the top of the car. Monsters and a sea of shadows. Really. No wonder Howard complains he’s too sensitive. As if any of those thoughts are the least bit helpful. Fanciful nonsense is what it is. Absently he scrubs his hand against the leg of his jeans. It leaves a streak of dirt that Jarvis is sure to frown at in distaste when he sees it. He’s always so prim and perfect even when he doesn’t have to be. Even when he shouldn’t be. He smiles at some of the stories Aunt Peggy told him. That hadn’t changed even then. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But then Tony sees something that makes his blood run cold. Foot prints. Clear, preserved footprints in the dust just inches away from where he is sitting. There’s no mistaking them for anything else. Following the trail with the light he sees that it ends right above the spot where Tony had been working. They - whoever they were - had knelt down and waited. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His blood runs cold just looking at it. So it hadn’t been his imagination. Someone had really been there. Watching him. Waiting for him to leave. Why? What was their purpose? Simple surveillance, trying to steal his work, or something more? He is no stranger to kidnapping attempts. Or kidnapping in general. He had only been four the first time it happened. He had been there for a week before someone came for him. After that, well, Howard made sure he knew that Stark Industries has a no ransom policy - and that included Tony himself. If he wanted to get out he was going to have to do it himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was for his own safety he was told. After all if everyone knew that Howard would pay to get him back they would take him all the time. He would be an easy way to get money. And Tony didn’t want that, did he? He didn’t want to be a victim. Didn’t want to be a burden. Didn’t want to be weak. So he had to know how to defend himself. Had to know how to get himself out. And, the next time, when he was six years old, that’s just what he did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Between Jarvis, Ana and Aunt Peggy he learned how to fight. And he had learned how to build a bomb by then too. How to make things explode and how to take advantage of it. It took him four days to get free, but he did it. He hasn’t needed anyone to save him since. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still the sight of those footprints in the dust is enough to make him break out in a cold sweat. Whoever it is is </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> at what they do. Tony had barely heard them. It was more instinct than anything that put him on alert. And thanks to his own experience he knows how loud getting up here can be. It wasn’t exactly a graceful climb. Which means professional. Professionals are always the worst if only because they don’t make so many mistakes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But then why not grab him when he left? It wasn’t as if he truly suspected anything. And he was down here alone. No one knew where he was and no one would have missed him for hours yet. Or if not the first time then the next. For surely both times, when Tony felt the eyes, someone was there. Why just watch? He doesn’t come down here on any set schedule so are they following him above ground as well? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Are they... are they </span>
  <em>
    <span>living</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the tunnels? How else did they manage to catch him both times? This is no homeless person watching. This speaks of training and some damn good training at that. Tony’s been stalked before. He knows what signs to look for. But there hadn’t been any of those. Just the hairs on the back of his neck standing on edge. What if he hadn’t even had that? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He forces his breath to even out, to slow down and calm down. Panicking will do no good here, even if he can feel it climbing up his throat as he stares. Right. First things first is get the fuck away from here. He scrambles down back onto the ground. His finger nails dig into his palm as he forces himself  to stand still and listen to the sounds around him. Nothing. Not a thing to signal that he isn’t completely alone right now. None of his instincts are screaming at him either. Well they are, but not that he’s being watched. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The pain in his hand helps ground him. Helps him remember his training in a situation like this. He can’t show fear and he most certainly can’t show panic. He shouldn’t show anything ideally. He shouldn’t let anyone know that he is on to them. Keep the element of surprise as long as he can. Taking one last deep breath he calmly and purposefully walks away from the car. He keeps the same pace, head held high and ears alert, the entire way out. Nothing. Not a whisper, not a thing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Only at one point does he think he sees something in the corner of his eye. When he turns to look there is nothing there. Only the shadows. A sweep of his light confirms that there is nothing there. Still, for a split second, he could have sworn there was. A chill runs up his spine at the thought. But as quickly as it came it went and Tony goes the rest of the way without any other incident. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time he is back on the surface, with the sun hitting his face, it seems as if his heart is going to beat straight out of his chest. He doesn’t pause because what if they are really watching him. He doesn’t pause, going straight back home and into his room where he can lock the door. Well not </span>
  <em>
    <span>straight</span>
  </em>
  <span> back home because he knows better than to take the same route twice, but he gets there as fast as he can without running. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the lock clicks in place he leans against the door with a sigh of relief. Safe. He is safe here. No one has ever been able to get into Stark Mansion before. Sure, a few have been stupid enough to try, but they’ve never succeeded. He’s safe from the outside monsters at least. It’s only the monsters that live with him that he needs to worry about. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stripping as he walks he heads right for his bathroom and the shower. He’ll pick them up later. Right now he has more important things to do - like calming the hell down. Turning the water on as hot as he can stand it, he steps right in and lets it wash over him. A shudder runs through him as the first drops soak his skin. Soon he is shaking all over, using the water to help ground himself so he doesn’t lose it completely. Which is not to say that he doesn’t lose it at all. He has to lean against the wall, forearms against the cool tile, as he shakes apart. Breaths come in great gasps and he leans more heavily against the wall, relying on it to keep him upright. His legs certainly aren’t going to. They are as weak as the rest of him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shit. Shit. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span> that was close. Far too close. He may be known for risks, but that was cutting it close even for him. What would have happened if he hadn’t decided to climb up there today? Would he still be oblivious to his watcher? Or would he have found out in another - worse - way? And - oh shit - that noise he heard earlier, the one he thought was just a mouse. It wasn’t, was it? It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It had to be. He didn’t think it sounded like a mouse, but had let himself be reassured anyways. Fuck. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s not sure how long he stands under the spray before the tremors finally stop. When they do it is all he can do to clean up before he falls down in exhaustion. Stumbling out of the shower he barely takes the time to dry off before he collapses onto his bed. Fumbling he pulls the blankets up so that they cover his head before curling up in a ball and falling asleep. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His sleep isn’t peaceful either. Shadows are on the prowl, following him as he runs through the tunnel. No matter where he goes, which way he turns, they follow him. They get bigger as they move, growing and growing until they threaten to swallow all of the light around him. He trips and falls over a piece of rumble and a thick, cold tentacle darts out to wrap around his leg. It tugs and he goes sliding, fingernails scraping uselessly against the ground. A rock stabs him under a nail and he cries out at the sharp pain. Still nothing slows him down. With a shout he wakes up before it drags him all the way into the darkness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frantically he claws at his limbs, making sure they are all intact. Throwing off the covers shows him that there are no shadows wrapped around him, no bruises where they were. He is perfectly fine except for the red lines his nails have just left on his skin. Somehow it isn’t enough to reassure him though. Getting up he can see that the sun is just rising. Stumbling up he goes to stand in the light, letting it wash over him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He is safe. He is home, in his bedroom with the door locked and weapons within arms reach. Not in the tunnels. Not in the darkness. In the light. He is </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Slowly he is able to calm down, to just stand and watch the sun grow brighter and brighter as the day arrives. The sun heats his skin, emphasizing how clammy he was before. Dried sweat sticks to him, giving him a dirty feeling, but he still doesn’t move. Not until the lines finally fade from his skin and he can no longer look outside without squinting. Then he goes to take another shower. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he is done he is much more centered which is a relief in and of itself. He can only be a nutcase for so long before even </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> gets annoyed with himself. And he is most definitely approaching that level of done. He’s never had a time when being here has messed with his head so much. He’s seventeen years old, he’s lived here his entire life and has been back for breaks before. Why is this time so different? It’s not just his potential watcher, it’s something else. Something more. Like there is a change in the air or some bull like that. As if he can read the world’s energies or whatever. As if that is real. Still he can’t deny that </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> is setting him off. That, as impossible as it seems, there is something in the air that he is picking up. A new tension, one completely unrelated to Howard or SI or anything else that he knows. It’s disturbing because it has to be all in his head, but he isn’t convinced that it is. Something is going to happen. Tony doesn’t know what and he doesn’t know how, but something is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe he really is going crazy after all. Wouldn’t the tabloids love that? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then he has to wonder if maybe he is jumping to conclusions on a few things because of this. Sure there is someone in the tunnel. There is no doubt of that now. And it’s likely someone dangerous - but dangerous to who? Is it really Tony they are after? Or is he just assuming it is? Because he had a thought at the time, but hadn’t paid it much mind. Now he is. What if they are living in the tunnel? Not because of Tony, but because of something else. Something completely unrelated. He’s been told often enough that the world doesn’t revolve around him. Maybe this is what they meant. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe whoever it is has another target. Maybe they are in hiding. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Now that he is thinking clearly there are about a hundred other reasons that he can think of that don’t involve him at all. They could be watching out of curiosity. Or to make sure he doesn’t see something that they don’t want him to see. If they really are living down there then they have to have some kind of home base. Maybe they just want to make sure that Tony doesn’t find it. Innocent enough. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Or, well, not innocent exactly, but nowhere near as sinister as he was thinking anyways. It helps settle something in him. The assurance that no, the whole world isn’t out to get him. Just part of the world. And he’s been dealing with that part his entire life. No need to work yourself up over it. Just another day in the life of. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sure this means he shouldn’t go back to the tunnels which rubs him wrong. It’s his sanctuary. The one place that he doesn’t have to worry about anyone seeing him. Where there are zero expectations or any reminders of the real world. Because as much as he loves his room and as safe as he feels in it, there is still the sense of other that lurks right outside his door. That as big as the mansion is, he is never really alone. In the tunnels it was different. So yes, it stings that he can’t go back. Part of him wants to yell and scream about how unfair it is. Throw a tantrum as if that will change anything. He is losing something precious here. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t though because he is well aware that life isn’t fair. It never has been and it never will be. That’s just how things work. Sure people can work to change that, maybe, but in the end it doesn’t matter. The more things change the more things stay the same. And nothing will change that particular fact, no matter how much he might hate it. So he tucks that childish part away and gets ready for the day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not really feeling up to social interactions he stays in his room, accepting the plate of food and coffee when Jarvis brings it to him. He absentmindedly smiles, but his mind is on other things. He continues working on the code for his next AI. Dum-E shouldn’t be an only child after all. It might end up being twice the trouble, but then again it might do him good to have another bot around. It’s not like it’s going to happen too soon anyways. He still has a lot of coding to do before he’d even consider starting. This is delicate work, coding an AI. Everything has to be just right, otherwise it won’t work. Or you might end up with some... quirks. Ones worse - and far more damaging - than the ones Dum-E has. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still it’s relatively easy and it gives him something to completely focus on. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> look at the other projects he needs to complete for SI, but screw that. There’s nothing down that road but trouble. Tony doesn’t need a sixth sense to know that. It always seems to turn out the same, no matter how many times he does this song and dance. You can’t change that 2 + 2 = 4 can you? Which, really, is the last thing he wants so he ignored them. If Howard doesn’t like it then he can stop giving them to Tony to work on. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thus the next three days pass. His mood manages to shift somewhere during the end of the first day, going from broody and depressing into an engineering haze. The kind of mind space where everything else falls away. All that exists are the numbers, the wires and tools and pencils under his hand. Hyper focus, Rhodey called it more than once. He isn’t wrong. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vaguely he remembers Jarvis bringing him meals, having a few short conversations, but that’s all. He eats with one hand, mind still focused on his work. By the end of the third day he is exhausted, rung out and yet oh so satisfied. Accomplishment and success sing through his veins, taking him high. This, </span>
  <em>
    <span>this,</span>
  </em>
  <span> is what he is meant to do. This right here. Not bombs, not weapons, </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He collapses onto his bed and falls asleep easily. No nightmares or stray thoughts plague him through the night. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he stumbles into the kitchen the next morning it is to find Ana and Jarvis already there eating. He takes a seat at the empty chair and let’s his head thud onto the table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Successful endeavors I presume?” Jarvis asks, smile evident in his voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony gives a vague hum of agreement. It’s about time he worked on some of his own projects instead of Howard’s. That is probably yet another factor in his messed up head space. A dull thud on the top of the table. He peaks up just enough to see Jarvis set a cup down in front of him before returning to his chair. “You’re a saint,” he mumbles as he inhales the coffee. Seriously. Saint. If Tony knew how to make it official he would. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Any plans for today?” Ana asks, “You have been so busy this summer that it seems as if we have barely seen you at all.” Of course they all know the real reason for that, but Ana is too kind to say it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony shrugs, “No. I should probably get some more work done, but,” he shrugs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well Mr Stark left yesterday and Mrs Stark is still organizing her gala so if you would like you can keep me company while Mr Jarvis does some of </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> work.” There is a winkle in her eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see how it is,” Jarvis sniffs, “You plan on playing while leaving all of the work to me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh no of course not,” she pats his arm, “just the boring bits. Right Tony?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There is a laugh bubbling up in his chest that he is helpless to resist. He turns away, hiding his smile behind his cup. His foot taps against the wooden leg of his chair in an attempt to hold it in. It’s a bad habit that he really needs to learn how to break. Anyone who knows him well enough knows what it means. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As predicted Jarvis gives him a look, eyebrow raised. The side of his mouth twitches even as he does his best not to look impressed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony smiles sweetly. “Jealous Jay? You know you could ditch it and come join us instead.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heaven forbid,” he sighs, “One of us must be the rock around here. It would appear that I am the one for today.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All work and no play makes you boring Jay. You don’t want to be boring, do you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do believe Mrs Jarvis would say otherwise, wouldn’t you dear?” He sniffs again, tilting his head up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony groans over Ana’s reply. “My ears, my innocent ears. Why do you do this to me? Don’t you love me anymore?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That is not at all what I meant,” Jarvis clears his throat. There is a slight blush to his cheeks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But if you insist on going in the direction,” Ana continues, mischief in her eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony groans again, letting that cover the laughter that escapes. Ridiculous. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Absolutely</span>
  </em>
  <span> ridiculous. But it feels good to laugh after the mess he’s been these last few weeks. Good to relax. Howard is gone, will be gone for months looking for that damn plane, and Tony will have the run of the place. Sure Obie will stop in a couple of times to check on him, to get some blueprints, but other than that Tony is free. And he’s never gotten into a screaming match with Obie, so bonus points there too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Free. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sure, it’s not complete, but it’s the best he’s going to get right now. Best not to look that particular gift horse in the mouth and all that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which is how he spends the next week. He invents when he wants, goes into Howard’s lab without worry of being discovered, spends time with Ana and Jarvis. His Mamma even has an unexpected afternoon off, which they spend together before she gets swept away again. It’s bliss, pure and simple. The tension slowly drains from his shoulders each day he doesn’t have to tiptoe around. Doesn’t have to hide. Be on his guard. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t even miss not being able to go back to the tunnels. Not really. Oh he contemplates it, going back, exploring some more, maybe he’ll even map out some new territory. But in the end he decides against it. He does have </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> self preservational skills after all. He doesn’t always - rarely - listen to them but they are there. And going back into the tunnels when he doesn’t know what is lurking there just isn’t worth the risk. Not right now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He is happy - which should have been his first sign that something was going to go wrong. These things never last, not for him. Still it’s a shock to his system when he bumps into Howard weeks before he should be home. Literally. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anthony,” he scowls. But then the strangest thing happens. Instead of lecturing him or continuing to glare at him until he went away, he smiles. Honest to Lovelace </span>
  <em>
    <span>smiles</span>
  </em>
  <span> at Tony. A real smile too, not one of the fake media ones. “Anthony,” he repeats, grinning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It is so disturbing that Tony has to pinch himself to see if this is real. It hurts, so that means he isn’t dreaming. Right? “Howard,” he greets cautiously, “what are you doing home, I thought you’d be at sea longer than this.” Dread and suspicion begin to creep up his spine. “Did something -” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We found him,” Howard interrupts, glee positively pouring off of him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It honestly takes Tony a few seconds to understand. Found - </span>
  <em>
    <span>found</span>
  </em>
  <span> - When it does, “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>found him</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” The question is asked with probably too much disbelief and shock, but still. This is something Tony never thought would happen. And if it did - “What, why -” he is having a hard time verbalizing his thoughts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Usually this is something Howard hates, but he keeps right on fucking beaming at Tony. Then the second shock. “He’s alive.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alive. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Alive. </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Fucking alive</em>
  </b>
  <span>? What alternate universe did he just drop into? “</span>
  <em>
    <span>How</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” is all he can manage. It shouldn’t be possible. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The ice kept him alive. He was frozen all this time, just waiting to be discovered. It acted as a cryogenic, keeping him in status, until he can be safely thawed.” There is an unholy gleam in his eyes, pride and excitement and obsession all rolled into one. “He’s resting in one of the guest rooms now. It shouldn’t be more than a few days until he wakes up.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logically the words make sense. They are in the right order, used correctly and said clearly. But they still don’t compute. Tony still can’t take them in, not really. Captain America. Howard actually found </span>
  <em>
    <span>Captain America</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Alive</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He’s alive. All this time and he’s alive, not a body waiting for decent burial, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive</span>
  </em>
  <span>. His inner fanboy is squealing so hard. “That’s - that’s amazing,” he breathes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because he has been brought up on stories of Captain America. Ever since he could remember, this is what he has had. From Howard to Aunt Peggy he’s heard everything he could possibly drag out of them. More than once. He has always been his idle, his hero. How could he not when he’s been basically primed for it? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I see him?” the question is out before he can think better of it. Before he can think of the consequences. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He is reminded soon enough in the form of Howard’s harsh scowl. “He’s not an exhibit in the zoo Anthony. You can’t just stand there and gawk at him like an animal. He’s been frozen for more than forty years, he doesn’t need some brat disturbing him while he recovers.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And now, here, is the other side of it. The uglier side. The reason why, at age ten, he decided that he hated Captain America. Because his entire life all he’s ever heard is that he’ll never measure up. Why Captain America would be disappointed in him. Why he is better than Tony. Why he is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>real </span>
  </em>
  <span>hero and a </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> man, not some snot nosed sissy boy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s such a direct opposite to Aunt Peggy’s stories that some days Tony doesn’t know which man is real. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Besides, if he got along with Howard so well then obviously he is someone Tony wants to stay away from anyways. Nothing good ever comes from Howard’s friends. The only exceptions are Aunt Peggy and Obie, his respective godparents. Other than that - no. It’s best for all involved if Tony stays far away from Howard’s ‘business associates’. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And that’s something else. Now that this is Steve’s home too, things are going to be different around here. You are going to fix up and chin up. None of this disrespectful shit you hear me? Steve Rogers is a great man and deserves to be treated as such. None of this mouthing off, none of this cheek and </span>
  <em>
    <span>no more</span>
  </em>
  <span> of this arrogant, wild attitude. You are a Stark and it’s high time you started acting like it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony makes a show of rolling his eyes. “And here I thought I was doing such a good job of it. All I have to do is imitate you after all.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Howard’s expression goes even angrier. Deadlier. “What did I just tell you huh? Christ, why can’t you be more like Steve?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s funny, in the sort of stomach rolling kind of way, because by all accounts - not Howard’s - Steve Rogers was a mouthy little shit. He was pure mouth and a ‘fight me’ attitude both before and after he got the serum. It’s not like it ever went away, it just got hidden under all the propaganda of the man. “If you like him so much then why don’t you make </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> your son instead?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe I will.” There is no irony, no sense of hesitation in that one, simple sentence. All they contain is anger and a challenge - and triumph. That is the worst part of all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony goes hot and then cold at the words. He wouldn’t. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>wouldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But then again, he would. He knows that even without seeing Howard utter those words without thought. Without a single pause or breath. Tony has ever been a disappointment. The failure. The one who never measured up, was never good enough. What better way to replace him than this? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turns and leaves. That is the only response he can give at this point. Well, no, it isn’t. Part of him wants to scream and cry and throw a fit. To spit those words right back into his face. To prove him wrong. But he’s been trying to do that since he was born, practically. And nothing he says is going to get through to him. Everything has already been said before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he turns and leaves, ignoring Howard’s shouting behind him. Ignoring his summons. Before he knows it he is running. Running through the halls, out the door and onto the pavement before him. He doesn’t stop even as he jostles into people, shoving his way through the crowd. His feet carry him away without thought. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Away. Away from the words. Away from the threats. Away from the danger. Just - away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where he is going to end up. The empty tunnels echo with his footsteps as he runs. Blindly he runs, gasping for air, lungs feeling too small. He can’t get enough air into them even as they burn for it. It’s dark, too dark since he doesn’t turn on a flashlight. Doesn’t even have one on him. He barely has anything on him in fact, just the bare essentials. Not that it matters. Not right now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right now all that matters is the pounding in his ears and the ringing in his head. The words that echo and the rush that tries to drown them out. This can’t be happening. It can’t be. He didn’t, he didn’t, he - </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it is and he did. Oh did he ever. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By time he finally stops running he has no idea where he is. None of the tunnels are recognizable from what he can tell. Still there is a distinct lack of panic when he realizes that he is lost. Is this really a bad thing? If he never went back to the mansion. If he never had to face anyone again. Would that be so bad? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He leans against the cool rock of the wall, panting, gasping too loud in the silence. The sound bounces off the walls, making it sound even louder than it already is. Too loud for this silent place. Out of place, just like the rest of him. There is a tremor to his limbs that has nothing to do with exhaustion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What a mess. Him, the situation, everything. Just screw everything right now, honestly. Can it get any worse? But just like any good movie goer - or anyone else with any amount of common sense - knows, the answer is yes. Yes it can get worse. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> can. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This particular answer comes in the form of a faint noise behind him. Tony spins rapidly, expecting to find another mouse. Another instance of his overactive imagination. It’s not real, it’s not real, </span>
  <em>
    <span>it’s not real</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead he finds a pair of eyes looking back at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony freezes, heart rate automatically sky rocketing. If he thought he was on edge before, this is nothing compared to now. Now every cell of his body is on high alert, poised and ready. The shaking gets worse and then stops, suddenly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The pair of eyes regards him warily. It seems as if they are just as startled to see Tony as Tony is to see them. Still there is something dangerous to them. Something feral, like a cornered cat, ready to attack. Prepared to do anything to defend itself. They don’t move, don’t even blink as they stare at Tony. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can just make out the rest of them in the gloom and shadows, a bare outline of shape. They are crouched, coiled to move in an instant. A glint on what is probably their shoulder, but that is all. Movement? A trick of the light? Dark is his first thought. A shadow. A ghost. Poetic and stupid, probably, but that’s what Tony thinks. That’s what Tony sees. The stranger doesn’t make a sound, not a breath or a twitch that he can hear. They might as well not even be there except for their dark, forbidding eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Danger, danger, danger his mind screams at him. Wow, as if Tony couldn’t figure that out himself without the added emphasis. Thanks brain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The eyes continue to judge him as Tony shifts into a better stance. He really hopes this doesn’t turn into a fight, but if it does, he wants to be ready. Thank Lovelace he at least is armed enough for this. Thank Lovelace he got into the habit of always wearing them, no matter what. That paranoia is about to pay off now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Besides, is it really paranoia if they really are out to get you? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, hey, yeah, how’s it going?” he babbles because that’s what he does. Whether it is ill advised or not, he talks. He talks even more when he’s nervous, which somehow never helps, but he does anyway. He can’t help himself. “Any chance we can pretend this never happened? You go your way and I go mine. That sounds good doesn’t it? Cause anything else is </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to mess up my day. I mean, it was already going pretty shitty to begin with, but this just isn’t going to help it. At all. The complete opposite actually. So what do you say? Sound good?” He shifts again, adrenaline rushing through him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In response the eyes attack. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Tony sighs as he springs into action himself. He jumps back and up into the air, taking flight. Wobbling a little as he tries to stay balanced as he unfolds his gauntlets with a graceful flick of his wrist. They form seamlessly over his hand all the way up to his elbow. The metal is a cool, solid reassurance. Rapidly he has to tighten his core and spread his legs to stay that way. He hovers just above range, looking down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The light of his repulsors gives him enough to show what he is dealing with. The shadow turns into a person with shoulder length hair, hanging down around their face in dirty strands. Dark clothes and tactical gear and holy shit - </span>
  <em>
    <span>an honest to Lovelace metal arm. </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Holy shit</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span> A mask covers their mouth and dark circles rim their eyes. It does nothing to reassure Tony. At all. His heart rate picks up another notch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They continue to regard each other, cold, empty gray eyes to wide brown ones. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Part of Tony is absolutely terrified. What the hell is all of this? But part of him has to stop from whooping for joy. Hours of work and practice, paid off. They work. His gauntlets and boots </span>
  <em>
    <span>work</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He is flying. Alright, so it’s more hovering at this point than anything else, but it still stands. Months of secret work, equations, creation, testing has all paid off. Tony can </span>
  <em>
    <span>fly</span>
  </em>
  <span> if he wants to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But that part of his brain is quickly distracted when the shadow leaps at him. Tony yelps and goes higher, further away. Not the most effective method out there. Although he should be grateful this stranger hasn’t pulled a weapon yet. Then he would really be in trouble. It is already clear that whoever this is, they are well trained. Better than anyone Tony has ever met. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It is also clear that there is something - wrong with them. With the way they move. It’s not human. Not a normal - baseline rather - one anyways. No one should be able to jump like that. No one should be this silent - because they still haven’t made a sound. No one should move like a machine. Not even a predator, a well trained operative. This is beyond that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A machine in human form. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They land, spin and jump again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” Tony shouts, “you want to play with the big boys now?” He waits until they lunge at him again before firing a repulsor beam at them. It hits dead center in their chest, sending them flying. They hit the wall with a sickening thud. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cautiously Tony lands and goes to investigate. Step by step he moves forward, hand at the ready just in case. The figure doesn’t move. By all logic they should be unconscious by now, but aren’t. There is a certain daze to their eyes, but they still track Tony as he moves. “Don’t fuck with me pal,” he warns. By now he is close enough to see that they are definitely a he. One step, two, a third and - </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lunges for Tony again. Tony gets his hand up in time for them to tumble down. They land in a stalemate. Tony’s repulser is at his forehead, but his knife is at Tony’s throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stare at each other a third time. There is a strange, desperate look in his dead eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t want to do this, do you?” Tony asks, taking a chance. The cornered animal analogy comes back, stronger than ever now. This isn’t someone who wants to hurt and kill, this is someone who is too terrified, too desperate and wary to know anything else. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A survivor. Tony can relate to that well enough. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There is no response, but then Tony didn’t really expect one. At this point it feels as if his heart is going to beat out of his chest it’s pounding so hard. It’s not exactly pleasant. “You know people tell me that I’d cut the nose off my face to prove a point - people that clearly don’t know me that is. I’m terribly vain and that would ruin my looks completely. Then where would I be? Half my value is in the presentation, you know. Who’s going to buy the busted merchandise? Especially when it’s no longer pretty. People only want the pretty, non broken things.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“More stubborn than a mule and half the sense - been told that too and it’s much more accurate. I plan to outstubborn god if he exists. But whatever, point, this seems like a stupid reason to die. Spite is a great motivator, but this is probably taking it a little too far.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He cocks his head at Tony, taking him - and his words presumably - in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh great, a murder puppy. Or is it murder kitten? Murder floof? Something like that. “Also in that vein of thought, I plan on living a long time to spite everyone who says that I’m going to die young. They seem to be under the impression that I’m too reckless and too stupid and too wild to live to a ripe old age. Fools because if I die that means I won’t be around to make them suffer for the rest of </span>
  <em>
    <span>their</span>
  </em>
  <span> lives. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Never</span>
  </em>
  <span> underestimate spite as a motivator is what I’m saying. But if you kill me now then I won’t be able to fulfill my life’s purpose. You wouldn’t want that, would you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The stare gets more intense. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His body doesn’t know whether to shake apart from fear or freeze completely. He can feel sweat forming at the base of his neck. He has to deliberately even out his breathing.  “I’m too pretty to die,” he tries next, “I mean, I probably shouldn’t mention it because it’s always the jerk and the slut who dies in horror movies and I’m technically both, but still. Pretty. You wouldn’t want to deny the world of this beauty would you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There is a furrow in his brow. It creases the space between his eyebrows, pulling them down and making it clear that he is frowning. “Punk,” he says. The word seems to startle him. As if he wasn’t expecting it As if he isn’t sure where it came from. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One of the nicer things I’ve been called,” Tony agrees. He would nod, but you know, </span>
  <em>
    <span>knife to his throat</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Really it’s a compliment once you know what the other ones are. Practically a declaration of love. Careful sunshine, keep this up and I might think you actually like me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks down at the knife as if to make sure that it is still there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yeah, buddy it is. Tony really wishes he would move it, but since when does he get what he wants? It is a constant pressure against his throat, sharp and pointed - ha! - pointedly present. Making his point - double ha, he is on a roll - about what exactly he thinks about Tony. Sadly, in the grand scheme of things, it’s still on the nicer end of the scale. What does </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> say about his life? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So why don’t we just,” he wiggles a little, trying to get away. The knife presses down harder. He can feel blood begin to slowly drip from the spot. “Or not,” he sighs. He seriously begins to wonder if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to die here. Or if he is really going to have to become a murderer at seventeen. Sure, it’s technically self defense, but dead is dead in the end. Is it really worth it? Is </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> really worth it? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alright, so not the best time for his issues to start poking up again. Spite. Remember the spite. It’s kept him alive this long so it’s obviously doing a fine job of it. He just needs a reminder every now and then. The blood strangely tickles. Is it supposed to? Is that really a thing? Weird. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But then, as suddenly as he came, he was gone. The stranger practically throws himself off of Tony, backing up until he is crouched against the wall. His knife is still in hand, but no longer aimed at Tony. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well then. What? Not that Tony is complaining mind you, but that deescalated suddenly. Cautiously he sits up and moves into a better position. If he is going to have to run - fly, whatever - or fight again he needs to be ready. Although judging from the way things are going, that no longer seems to be a problem. The blood swells at the base of his neck, pooling into the hollow of it before continuing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reaching up he pokes it with his finger. Obviously he can’t feel it through the metal, but there is a slight sting that assures him of the cut. Hopefully he can find a way to hide this well enough until it heals. Otherwise things could get - awkward. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks? I guess?” Is that the right protocol for something like this? Is there even such a thing? When he stands up the man doesn’t move. “Well, okay, see you around. Maybe.” Tony takes off, flying away before he can change his mind again. That was a little too close for comfort. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It takes him a while, but eventually he makes it out of the tunnels and into the outside world again. When he does he takes a deep breath of air to help finally steady his nerves. Well then. That happened. Looks like he was right to be paranoid after all. </span>
  <em>
    <span>And</span>
  </em>
  <span> it looks like he really won’t be going back now. Damn. Just when he needs it the most. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The encounter sticks with him. Through the next two days it’s all he can practically think about. Days spent creeping through the mansion. Days spent carefully checking corners and listening in empty hallways for any signs of life. Days seeing Ana and Jarvis, but no one else. Days being on his guard for more than one reason. As if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>needs</span>
  </em>
  <span> another reason to be jumpy in this damn place. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Howard has been prowling around, even more manic than usual. When he isn’t in his lab he is pacing like a predator just waitng for the hunt. To be able to sink his claws into something. Tony isn’t sure if he or Captain America is the something in this scenario. It’s not a particularly pleasant thing to ponder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s the eyes that haunt him the most. Not his near death experience. Not that this strange, dangerous person scared the ever living shit out of Tony and took away his one safe haven here. Not the pressure of the knife or the thin cut that serves as a reminder. No. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s the eyes that follow Tony into his dreams at night. That lurks in the corner of his thoughts during the day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Messed up? Probably. But he can’t help it. They were just so - dead. Dead is definitely the word he is looking for. And not the usual kind either. They were haunted by something far worse than the usual drugs or trauma. Eyes that have seen beyond their limits. Eyes that have endured something beyond comprehension, but are still there. Still living. Kind of. Dead grey eyes that are somehow more alive than anything Tony has ever seen or thought possible. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So yeah. His head is more of a mess than usual. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What else is new? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the third day he can barely stand it. Not the eyes, not the mansion, not anything. There is a legitimate worry that if he stays in here any longer he might actually go mad. Madder. It depends on who you talk to. So he does the only logical thing he can. He goes back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He packs up some of Ana’s leftovers from the night before and goes back to the damn tunnels. Stupid? Oh definitely. Rhodey would have </span>
  <em>
    <span>such</span>
  </em>
  <span> a fit if he knew. He’d never let Tony live it down. But Rhodey isn’t here to say anything and there isn’t anyone else to talk him out of it. So off he goes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His pulse picks up as soon as he enters the darkness. What used to be innocent now takes on a whole new sort of meaning. His footsteps echo too loudly. The shadows loom more dangerously. At the slightest noise he jumps and turns, expecting to see those pair of eyes again. Watching. Waiting to attack. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s alone though. Always alone. Honestly he isn’t even sure what he is trying to prove here. Or who he is trying to prove it to. All he knows is that he can’t stay away. Not now. Not like this. He isn’t a coward and he isn’t weak and this may or may not be about that, but he still feels like he has to. Call it an odd form of closure if you will. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wanders aimlessly, only half paying attention to where he is going. He remembers the route he took last time - the exit at least - but he doubts that will be of any real use. Who is to say he would be in the same place? Plus he took </span>
  <em>
    <span>a lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> of turns coming out. He could probably find the tunnel again, but it would take some work. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead he walks until his stomach starts rumbling. Then he finds an abandoned station and hops up onto the platform. Dust flies up and settles around him as he sits down. He digs out a container and a fork and helps himself. Hmm, delicious as always. This is one thing Tony always misses at MIT - Hungarian food. It’s amazing, but there are never any restaurants that serve it. It’s all Chinese or Mexican. What a waste. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somehow he isn’t surprised when he is suddenly no longer alone. One second there is no one and the next he is there. Like a ghost. Or a shadow. Both are rather fitting after all. If not a ghost, then what? The monster at the end of the tunnel? Tony has met monsters before, real ones. His shadow is much nicer, if just as terrifying at first. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>First impressions can be deceiving. He’s both been told that often enough and has observed it for himself. What you see is not always what you get. Sometimes it is the exact opposite. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This probably isn’t what they meant when they told him that though. Oh well. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Knowing this though doesn’t stop his heart rate from picking up. Again. It takes all the restraint in him not to jump. “You hungry?” he asks casually, holding out another container and fork. “It’s good, I promise. Not American, but judging by the look of you, I doubt you care about that.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stares at the food in Tony’s hand without moving. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, whatever,” he shrugs and sets it down within easy reach. Tony can be funny about simple things too. “So does this mean you are my official stalker now? Is this going to be a thing? Because I like it down here, it’s cozy,” he says in direct contrast to the positively spooky atmosphere of the place, “Knowing who your stalkers are is always a good idea. I know from experience. Sorry Terminator, but you aren’t my first. Someone else had that honor. But I’ve been told experience makes you better, so,” he shrugs and takes another bite. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>More staring. Well at least he isn’t trying to murder Tony today. That counts for something right? Baby steps. Baby steps are good too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony finishes and puts it back into his backpack before collapsing. It makes the dust cloud even worse, but he doesn’t care. He stares up as the brick ceiling dissolves into darkness. The weight of those eyes are still on him. “So, are you ever going to say anything or are you going to keep staring? Because let me tell you sugar pop, it’s getting kind of creepy. You know that blinking is a thing right? It’s a thing and you are totally allowed to do it. It’s bad for the eyes if you don’t. Dries them out. How do you suppress that anyways? Isn’t it supposed to be like an automatic reaction? Like breathing. You do it even when you aren’t thinking about it. Actually thinking about it usually screws it up. Trying to breathe when you think about it is super weird.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A rustling beside him. A thud as something is set on the ground. As carefully as he can he glances over, just from the corner of his eye. It’s enough to confirm that the mask is off. He doesn’t look any farther than that. It would appear that his monster is a skittish monster. Or at least a cautious one. Staring directly at him will probably scare him off. Or get him attacked again. See? He has self preservation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It is enough to know that he is eating. For now. He doesn’t try to fool himself into thinking it will remain enough. Not with his curiosity. And attachment issues. That he definitely does not have. No matter what Rhodey tries to claim, it is all false. Lies and slanders because Rhodey is a sour patch like that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hmph. So rude. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still though Tony knew no one could resist Ana’s cooking for long. It’s just not possible. Not if you have any taste anyways. Or a sense of smell. Sure, some people have no sense of adventure when it comes to food - or anything else - but those people are lame and therefore do not count. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He isn’t paying attention anymore, but the light from his lantern is still enough to bounce off of his metal arm. Then he can’t help but turn more to look. What a gorgeous looking piece of tech. Just looking at it makes his fingers itch to get a hold of it. To take it apart and see how it works. It moves flawlessly, with no delay or lag visible. That kind of technology shouldn’t be possible. Or, well, Tony could and probably Howard, but other than that? He can’t think of a person. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s probably a little too arrogant. No, scratch that, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> too arrogant. It’s not like they are the only two geniuses out in the world. Not for technology or anything else. It is stupid to assume that they are the only people who could manage something like this. Although Tony would like to think he is the only one. That he is one of the best is fact. That even Howard couldn’t do it, well. Those are his issues talking, so he pushes that thought aside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So,” he says casually, “are we far enough into our relationship now that I can get my hands on that arm?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He jerks said hand down to grab a knife before Tony can even blink. Fortunately he leaves it where it is. No need to repeat the other day. Once was enough, thank you very much. Warily he watches with shadowed eyes, frozen, every inch of his body suddenly alert. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony knows a natural reflex when he sees it though. Oh boy. “Alas,” he sighs dramatically, “I thought not. I shall keep pining from afar then. How about a name? Because, not going to lie, I’m probably going to keep calling you Terminator if you don’t give me one. Or Rambo, I guess, that works too. But I like Terminator better, so you’re going to be stuck with that.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Those eyes consider him again thoughtfully. Tony is really starting to see a trend here. He isn’t expecting an answer when he is given one. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Asset.” His voice is low and rough as if he hasn’t used it in quite some time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Asset. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Asset</span>
  </em>
  <span>. No, seriously. What. The. Fuck? What the fuck is going on here? What exactly did Tony just stumble onto. Into? Something. “Sorry buttercup, but that isn’t a name, it’s a noun. I mean a name is a noun. I think. But it’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> type of noun. I’m pretty sure. It’s some other kind of noun and it’s all very proper, and look, English has never been my strong suit, but that isn’t the point. The point is the asset is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> a name. At all. That’s just - no.” Tony is now very disturbed for a whole new reason. Because the other ones were getting so boring obviously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Variety is the spice of life. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fuck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yeah, okay he has this. Totally. He can totally do this. Right. “Terminator it is then.” Nailed it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Asset does not require a name. The Asset is a weapon, not a person.” This is delivered in a bland tone before he takes another bite. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony’s brain screeches to a halt. Gone. Stop. Blue screen of death. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What. The. Fuck.</span>
  </em>
  <span> This is clearly even worse than he thought. He turns his head to look. “Yes you are pumpkin. Whoever told you otherwise was lying.” It’s heartbreaking and messed up and oh boy is Tony going to be in over his head very quickly. He already is. If he was smart he would run while he still could. Walk away from this whole mess and let someone else deal with it. Someone, anyone, has to be more qualified to handle this than he is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Too bad his sense of self preservation doesn’t extend that far. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Terminator doesn’t answer, just finishes his food before returning the container back to Tony. Smoothly and wordlessly he slips the mask back on his face, securing it behind his head. He gives Tony one more nod and then is gone. Poof. Vanished. There isn’t any echo on the ground to announce his departure. It is like he was never even there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Tony were the imaginative sort he would wonder if he was ever there at all. If he hadn’t somehow imagined the entire encounter. The entire person - shadow - ghost. Sitting here, alone, with the lantern casting deep and eerie shadows, it is almost easy to believe. Easy to get swept up in the atmosphere of the place. It’s never bothered him before, but now that seems to have changed. The shadows look as if they are only moments away from coming to life. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The only proof he has, in the end, is the empty container and used fork still sitting beside him. Other than that it is as if he is a figment of Tony’s imagination. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alright, enough of this. He shakes his head, annoyed with himself. No, no, no. Bad thoughts. Not practical at all. He really needs to get a hold of himself. Since when has he been someone who jumps at shadows anyways? With a sigh he gathers everything up and stands to go. Enough of this. It’s time to be heading back anyways. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The mere thought makes his stomach cramp with nerves. The reason he ran in the first place catches up with him once again. He isn’t sure which is worse, the waiting or the fact that both Captain America and Howard are there to begin with. The entire mansion seems to be holding its breath. Waiting. Waiting for what he isn’t sure. For the status quo to break somehow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Break violently. That’s the usual standard whenever a Stark is involved in anything. With two Starks in the house right now? There is inevitably no other way it can go. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he leaves the tunnels he can feel eyes on him. He never sees anything, he doesn’t expect to. But he knows he is being watched. Either guarded or surveyed he doesn’t know. Does it matter? In the end it is all the same. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony slips through the halls silently when he returns. Now he is the ghost, haunting the place he should call home, but doesn’t. No one is around, or not where he is at any rate. He is able to drop the dirty containers off in the kitchen, grab some snacks and head off to his room in peace. A chill runs up his spine. Being here isn’t any more comforting than the tunnels. Being better lit and - supposedly - safer means nothing to his brain right now. It is on full alert as if it knows something Tony doesn’t. Now all he needs is the dramatic music to go with it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Since when has his life turned into a horror movie anyways? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s only because he is paying so close attention that he hears the footsteps coming towards him. Automatically he braces himself. Whoever it is is walking quietly, as if trying their best not to be noticed. That eliminates Howard then. Howard has a habit of stomping and strolling through the place as if he owns it - which he obviously does. He’s never crept anywhere in his life. Never been that considerate of others. It could be Jarvis, but he doesn’t think so. And they sound a little too heavy to be Ana’s or his mother’s. That’s everyone accounted for, so obviously whoever it is can’t be here for any good reason. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shifts on his feet, ready. At least he knows he’s operational, what with his surprise test run the other day. His shadow was good for something after all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But then the footsteps round the corner and he freezes. Of course. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Of course</span>
  </em>
  <span> there is another person in the house. How could he possibly forget? Just because he hadn’t been awake before doesn’t mean that he is never going to wake up. Howard seemed sure that he was. And when is Howard ever wrong? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thus Tony is caught staring at Captain America like an idiot. His first glimpse and he is here gawking. He can’t help it though. The man is a legend. No matter how much Tony may resent him, may want to threaten and posture, this is still the man he grew up hearing about. The hero. </span>
  <em>
    <span>His</span>
  </em>
  <span> hero until Howard ruined that too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At least Captain America seems just as surprised to see him. Tony isn’t the only one taken off guard here. He can’t help but notice he isn’t the only one who is in a battle ready stance as well. Makes sense. He is a soldier after all. And after what he’s been through, well, being a bit jumpy is likely going to be the least of it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi,” Tony greets and wow, that came out with way more enthusiasm than he was expecting. Or hoping for. If he wants to make a good impression then he needs to calm the hell down. “Hi,” he repeats, smoother, cooler now. That’s better. “Is there something you need? Or are you looking for someone?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His inner fanboy is jumping up and down at the chance to help. To be useful. To give his hero whatever he needs. Trying to shut that voice up is impossible, so he tries to ignore it instead. He’s sure that his smile is a little too bright and there is definitely a bounce in his feet that he needs to stop. Any time now. Stop. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stop</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Ugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So much for calm, cool and collected. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Er, no?” he asks more than says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony nods. “Just stretching your legs then? I know I would after I’ve been asleep that long. Playing Sleeping Beauty isn’t really my thing, but then I don’t really need the beauty sleep. Come to that, neither did you. Sure you got told that a lot, but wow. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nice</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Normally people expect someone to be taller or bigger or whatever when you meet them, but honestly you look like you’re living up to the legend part of the whole,” he waves a hand to include all of him. Because once again - </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Very nice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He should probably shut up now, but since when has he ever been able to do that? “Are you hungry? You probably are, what with that super metabolism and all. Sounds like hell, but I guess you need the calories to run that tank somehow. Not that I’m offering to cook - trust me, you’re better off - but Ana should have leftovers in the kitchen. She always has leftovers in the kitchen you know. It’s great too, if you don’t mind the country of origin. I’m used to it, but then I grew up on it. I mean, there’s bound to be other leftovers, Jarvis cooks too if Hungarian isn’t your thing. Or are you out just getting the lay of the land. I can show you around if you like, I -” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> you?” Captain America interrupts, frowning. Likely at the flood of words coming out of Tony’s mouth, but whatever. “Where am I?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A bolt of unholy and wholly inappropriate glee shoots through him at the questions. He doesn’t know. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn’t know</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He has no idea because obviously Tony got to him first before Howard ruined everything and oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>, this is even better than he ever imagined. Time to put on the Stark Charm. “Stark Mansion in all of its glory,” he announces, “The place on Fifth Avenue, I’m sure you heard it mentioned once or twice before.” Howard being ever so modest about his things and such. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Also note to self -</span>
  <em>
    <span> stop. Bouncing.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s - really something,” Captain America agrees warily. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right,” and there is that still too bright grin, “the joys of living the large life. Ain’t it grand.” Okay, so maybe he’s laying it on a little thick, but he can’t help it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mine and Bucks' entire apartment could fit twice into the room I was in,” he murmurs, more to himself than Tony. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay though, everything is -” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” he interrupts again, “Everything is fine now stop pretending. What is going on here? Where am I?” There is a hostile note in his voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That draws Tony up short. “What? I just told you, Stark Mansion, weren’t you listening? I know people tend to tune me out, but that was right in front where you should have still been listening. I didn’t think you were asking just to hear yourself talk, but -” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop it,” he growls. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That is enough to make the bouncing finally stop. It’s also enough to make him freeze like a deer in the headlights. He is obviously missing something here. What is he missing? “Stop what? Talking? Because I am afraid to tell you that that is a lost cause. People have been telling me that for years with no effect. It’s basically impossible to shut me up unless you want to go with more unsavory methods and I somehow doubt that you’re into that kind of thing. I could be wrong, of course, but -” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Tell. Me</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony can’t help but finger the gauntlet currently folded up on his wrist. This isn’t going to come to a fight, that’s a ridiculous thought. It can’t be. Why would it? There is no reason to, even if he is annoyed with Tony’s babbling. All of his instincts are telling him otherwise though. “I am, I am, aren’t you listening? I know it’s a lot of words to keep up with, but surely you can. How are you not used to babbling? I’ve been reliably told that Howard has the same habit. Never shut up about anything and everything, words coming at you like a battering ram. Personally I like to think I’m more of a flood than anything else. Much more thorough if nothing else.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hadn’t that information been hard to imagine. No matter what Aunt Peggy told him, it’s hard to see Howard being that carefree enough to babble about anything. He’s too cold and too hard and too in control for that. Even his enthusiasm is measured, as if he is making sure to let out only the appropriate amount, the majority of the time. One of the few exceptions to that rule is standing right in front of him, glaring fiercely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That is obviously the wrong thing to say though because Captain America’s face grows hard. “Don’t talk about Howard like that. He’s a good man,” he snaps. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unlike you. It’s unsaid, but not unheard. They are still enough to make him grow cold, finally putting out any joy or excitement about this meeting. “Well excuse me for not worshiping at the altar of Howard Stark. Some of us have better things to do than waste time on a sad, grumpy wash up like him.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe Tony should give him some slack. He did just wake up after all. He hasn’t met Howard yet. He doesn’t know what he’s become. From all the stories he’s been told, he was a very different man when he was younger. That is the man Captain America is remembering now, not the version that Tony knows. But when has he ever been rational when it comes to Howard? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He is a brilliant man and a good friend. What right do you have to judge him? He’s done a lot for me and for my country. Be more respectful of that, or can’t you do that either?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony </span>
  <em>
    <span>burns</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Oh how he burns at the words. Right? Respectful? What a joke. “I have more of a right then you do,” he snaps back, “You think just because he did you a few favors that you know him? How much was he really around to help? What good did he do besides a few fancy trinkets? Don’t talk to me about Howard Stark, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Captain</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you aren’t going to win.” Sixteen years trumps two, three at the most. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Showing your hand a little too much aren’t you? Did you really think this would work? That I would be that easy to fool? You aren’t going to convince me like this.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And what? That doesn’t make any sense. Or, it almost does, but Tony starts to think that, once again, he is missing something obvious. Especially by the way Captain America is subtly shifting on his feet the way he is. “Want to clue me in on what you’re talking about. I may be a genius, but even I need all the variables to understand.” Most of them anyways, then he can usually figure out the rest, but that’s not the point here. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like you don’t know. You haven’t even told me your name yet,” he points out sharply. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh. Right. Manners. Those pesky things. Jarvis would be appalled if he knew that Tony wasn’t practicing them. Not surprised, but appalled nonetheless. He resists the urge to rub the back of his head sheepishly. Is this what he was missing? If so, easily fixed. “I’m -” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anthony,” Howard barks out, coming around the corner. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony can’t help the jump he gives at that. His heart, already racing, kicks it into overdrive. Oh shit. Here it comes. Sure enough he isn’t given a chance to respond before - </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What have I told you about bothering Steve? The man has been through enough without you being a pest. You're not the person he is going to want to see right now anyways.” He marches forward, intent on looming over Tony. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But then Captain America’s choked out “Howard?” stops him in his tracks. The tone is small and timid, disbelieving. It is a sharp contrast to how he had been talking to Tony. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because of where he is standing he gets a full view of the way Howard’s face transforms. It goes from thunderous and furious to joyful in a second. “Steve?” he asks as if it is only now registering that Captain America, the man he had searched so long and so hard for, who he admired and cared for so much, was standing right in front of him. It happens in the blink of an eye. One second they are apart, the next they are hugging, clinging to each other. Tony has been completely forgotten. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s for the best. There is a sour taste in his mouth as he watches the two reunite. That is more happiness than he has ever bothered to show Tony. More positive emotion than he thought him capable of. After all, what has Tony seen but the negative? It leaves him feeling even more raw than before. Quietly he slips away before they remember he is there. He so does hate to be the rain cloud of the party. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Going into his room he collapses on the bed still fully clothed. It is then that everything hits him. What a disaster. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What a fucking disaster</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Looks like Howard was right. There is no way Captain America would ever like him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Damn him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Damn both of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>:::</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After that Tony decides to make himself scarce. If Howard doesn’t want him around, fine. That’s nothing new. He’s only been a trophy son to him after all. Any other time he has no use for him and hates when he gets under foot. As for Captain America - well. He obviously doesn’t like Tony any more than expected. Fine. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>. So be it. There is enough rage and fire in him to cover up any hurt or disappointment that is definitely </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They can have each other. They deserve each other. What Aunt Peggy ever saw in him, he doesn’t know. What an ass. The possibility that it is just Tony that is the problem is pushed far back into the corner of his mind, never to be considered. Ever. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Let Howard enjoy his </span>
  <em>
    <span>new</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>upgraded</span>
  </em>
  <span> son. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead he flees to the tunnels. Howard is around more than ever now so Tony gets into the habit of getting up early and staying out late. He packs his bag and flees as if hellhounds are after him. Hellhounds might actually be preferable to this. He takes work with him so he has something to do if he gets tired exploring and supplies for more in depth mapping. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s easier this way. He doesn’t see Howard at all. He’s only seen Captain America once, when once again they were both up late when the rest of the house was asleep. He had frowned at Tony, brows furrowed, but Tony had escaped before he could say anything. Before either of them could. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now that the initial meeting is over the rage and envy burns bright in him. It is no longer about Captain America, the hero of his childhood. It is about Captain America, the man Tony will never measure up to. It’s better this way. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even better is that in all the excitement, Howard has stopped giving Tony assignments to complete. No more blueprints to make. No more missiles or bombs or any other kind of weapons to create. He is free. Another relief. Maybe the one good thing that has come of this whole thing. Isn’t there supposed to be a silver lining in every disaster? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There is another unexpected bright side to all of this. The more time Tony spends in the tunnel, the more time he gets to spend with Terminator. The shadows lurk and creep and engulf him every time he enters. The thrill and the faint terror never really leave even with this new habit. There is always a sense of danger hovering just out of reach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t always have company. Not the kind that joins him anyways. Sometimes it’s only the sensation of eyes on his back that tells him he is not alone. The hairs on the back of his neck that stand up. The chill that runs down his spine. Those are the times that his heart picks up, beating hard in his chest. The times he starts thinking about all of those horror movies and how they always end. Even if he knows logically that he is - mostly - safe it doesn’t stop the reaction. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other times the shadows separate and suddenly he is there just like the ghost Tony keeps comparing him to. He comes for food mostly, but not all the time. Sometimes he seems to be there for the company, as odd as that sounds. He never says anything, not really. There is nothing to give Tony that impression, but that is the one he gets anyways. Even shadows get lonely he supposes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There is an irony there as well, that he seeks Tony out, wants to be near him, when neither Howard nor Captain America want to. Just another truth that burns. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another irony is just how easy he is to talk to. All of his life Tony had been taught not to trust. To be careful because everyone wanted a piece of him and they aren’t afraid to rip him apart to get it. What is a little blood in the grand scheme of things? Especially blood that isn’t theirs. He’s been burnt more than once on this too. Learned his lesson through practical experience. Never trust anyone. There are very few exceptions in his life. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe it is because Tony doesn’t actually think of him as human in the end. That sounds bad of course, terrible and callous and cruel, but there is some truth to it. Sure, his shadow is human, but he is still a shadow. He lurks in them, hiding and concealing himself even as he spends time with Tony. The only time he removes the mask is to eat and even then he hides his face with hair and darkness. How can Tony not think otherwise? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A better way to describe it - maybe Tony doesn’t fully believe he is real. There is no denying his existence yes, he isn’t saying that. It’s not as if he is </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> a ghost. But there is something surreal about him. Uncanny. Dreamlike. As if he exists, but not outside these tunnels. Not out in the real world. There he really would fade away into nothing. The tunnels are his and his alone. That means, in a twisted way, so is Terminator. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>However you describe it, it doesn’t really matter in the end. The truth remains the same. His shadow is the easiest person he has to talk to. Everything comes out, there in the darkness and the gloom. Howard. Captain America. Expectations and disappointments and impossible standards and  the failure of never being good enough. Never living up to what he is supposed to be. Things he’s never told anyone else, not even Rhodey. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not because he thinks that Rhodey couldn’t handle it or because he can’t trust him. Rhodey is his first, best and currently only friend. Rhodey is </span>
  <em>
    <span>the best</span>
  </em>
  <span>. There is no doubt about that. But there are some things that he just can’t say. The words stick in his throat every time he even considers it. It isn’t a matter of trust, but a matter of ability. Something Tony does not have. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But down here it is different. Down here it is just him and his ghost and nothing else. As alone and free as he ever gets. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Irony. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And who knows, maybe he is even growing on his shadow as well. He certainly seems to be spending more and more time with Tony as they go on. Maybe he isn’t the only one strangely attached. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His expeditions go almost completely unnoticed except for Ana, who one day comments on how quickly her leftovers are disappearing. Tony grins innocently, while internally panicking, but she just winks at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Super soldiers have quite the appetite. I’ll have to start making more. Is there anything in particular you would like?” And that is all. Ana has always been amazing like that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So it goes on. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A disruption to his well planned schedule comes one day in the form of his Aunt Peggy. He had snuck downstairs, intent on getting his things and leaving, when he sees her sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of what is likely tea. Aunt Peggy has never really been a coffee person. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aunt Peggy,” he grins as he walks over to give her a hug. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She returns it warmly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He more or less melts into her at that. There is a strength in her that most people don’t expect when they see her. All the better to be underestimated, as she has always told him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hear there has been a bit of excitement around here recently,” she murmurs into his hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He snorts, but doesn’t respond to that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course, as I have been told, you are missing most of it. Ana nor Jarvis has seen much of you in days. Ever since Steve woke up in fact.” There is only the slightest hitch to her voice to show that she is affected by this news at all. If Tony didn’t know her so well then he would have never heard it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There is no good answer to that, so he doesn’t give one. Somehow he doubts that his Aunt would approve of his exploration any more than Rhodey would have. She would like it even less if she knew just who he had been spending time with. Best to keep silent on the subject. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hums. “Why don’t we move to a more comfortable spot? My back is aching simply looking at you. I am far too old for such acrobatics.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You? Old? Never,” he assures, still into her neck, grinning as she snorts. He obeys when she urges him up though. They end up in one of the many sitting rooms. As soon as she sits down on the couch, Tony goes right back to clinging, burying his face into her stomach and curling up into a ball. What better way to pretend that the rest of the world does not exist? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A warm hand rubs his back. “Are you going to tell me what is wrong or am I going to have to drag it out of you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony whines and burrows in further, truly and desperately </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanting to talk about it. Not wanting to tell her what Howard threatened. Not wanting to admit just how thoroughly and completely he messed up. She loves him, yes, but she also knew Steve long before she knew Tony. Part of him is afraid that she will take his side, no matter how irrational that actually is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see,” she murmurs. She doesn’t say anything else though, letting Tony keep his silence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He soaks it in, knowing the peace never lasts. And as expected, eventually he hears footsteps coming. Heavier ones, which means that they are possibly Howard. Which means that he needs to move before he sees Tony ‘acting like a sissy boy’ again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t move. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The footsteps stop. “Peggy,” a voice breathes as if all the air has been knocked out of him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Steve,” Aunt Peggy says. There is a smile in her voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What - how -?” He seems at a loss to know what to say. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you think you would get away from hiding from me forever?” And oh, there is the raised eyebrow. One does not need to see the eyebrow to know that it is raised. It is clear enough in her tone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no!” Captain America stumbles over his words, “It’s  not - I just - and you are -” he stutters. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aunt Peggy laughs. “As smooth as always then? I would give you a hug, but I currently have a limpet attached to me.” She rubs circles along Tony’s back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That should be a sign for him to get up and move. Leave. Let them have the reunion that they so clearly have not had yet. The words can’t even be called a hint, they are too strong for that. Still he doesn’t move. Doesn’t want to. Suddenly a strong wave of possessiveness washes over him along with everything else.  Captain America has already taken Howard away from him, he isn’t allowed Aunt Peggy too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Messy. Emotions are so messy. Yuck. He curls in further. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s ok,” Captain America says, not sounding as if he exactly believes it. There is still too much shock and wariness to his voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sit Steve. Stop hovering around like an old fuss pot,” Aunt Peggy commands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Captain America sits. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony has to fight back the urge to giggle. It would probably sound a little too hysterical along with giving the wrong impression. Then again he already messed his one and only chance up, hadn’t he? Why bother? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How are you adjusting so far?” Aunt Peggy asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Captain America says, “there are no flying cars yet. I have to say I’m rather disappointed.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well then. There’s no helping it. The hysterical laughter slips out. He bites his lip and laughs into Aunt Peggy’s stomach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, that is </span>
  <em>
    <span>such</span>
  </em>
  <span> a tragedy,” she agrees dryly, “I am sure you are devastated that you cannot use </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> as a weapon to wreak havoc on the unsuspecting as well. You will simply have to stick with your motorbike then.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That only makes the giggling worse. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t wreck </span>
  <em>
    <span>every</span>
  </em>
  <span> motorbike I ever drove,” he protests. It also sounds like he’s pouting, but that can’t be right, can it? As much as he wants to know, he doesn’t turn to check. Too risky. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Aunt Peggy agrees, “sometimes you wrecked </span>
  <em>
    <span>other</span>
  </em>
  <span> people’s motorbikes instead.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They were Nazis.” And now it definitely sounds as if he is pouting, “Besides there was that one time with Dum-Dum and -” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yes, as if I could ever forget </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> mission? That still does not mean that you do not hold the record. Why do you think Phillips stopped replacing them for you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because Howard pissed him off that one time after -” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony flinches at the name, unable to help himself. Briefly he zones out, unable to hear anything else over the wild beating of his heart. Shit. Damn. Hell. This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> what he needs right now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As expected Aunt Peggy feels it. “What did he do now?” she demands in a no nonsense tone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony shakes his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tony,” she warns. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He mutters his answer into her stomach, nigh incomprehensible. Or so he thinks because Captain America takes in a sharp breath at the words. “What?” he asks faintly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Repeat that so that those without enhanced senses may hear.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shakes his head again. Once was enough. Too much in fact if Captain America was able to understand him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Steve?” she asks, playing dirty. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He said something about replacing him for a - better model?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aunt Peggy growls. “I’m going to kill him.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Been saying that for years,” Tony says, slightly more understandable. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This time I mean it. This has gone on long enough. Either he learns to appreciate you or he learns to keep his mouth </span>
  <em>
    <span>shut</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re Starks, we don’t know how,” he says to the latter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well it is high time he learned.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t mean - </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> doesn’t mean - Howard wouldn’t -” Captain America starts stuttering again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Many things have changed since you have been gone,” Aunt Peggy answers, “Unfortunately Howard is one of them. I am afraid that he is no longer the man we both once knew.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I knew he was different, but it’s been years. No one stays the same after that long. I could tell, I just never thought,” he trails off before asking, “Did he really threaten to replace you with me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Obsessed with you,” Tony says, a bit reluctant oddly enough. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am afraid that assessment is correct. After the war Howard fixated on you to unreasonable degrees. That is why he was still looking for you after all this time. While I am thankful with the results I cannot say that I approve of his methods.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony curls in even tighter still, as much as possible, saying nothing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It seems as if Captain America has nothing to say either. Silence fills the room. “I’m sorry,” he finally blurts out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“His obsession. Not your fault,” Tony says shortly, not comfortable lingering on the subject. It’s true too. However much Tony may want to blame him, it’s not his fault Howard turned into such a dick about everything Captain America. Or about everything else too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not about that. When we met, I thought that maybe you were the enemy.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh. That. Well doesn’t that just make everything better then. He hadn’t even met Tony before he thought he was the enemy. Charming. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The last thing I remembered was crashing the plane. I should be dead, but suddenly I was awake, alone, in a room where nothing made sense. It was too advanced from anything I knew. I thought that someone, HYDRA or someone else, managed to capture me and was attempting to fool me into submission.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Enemy as in literally. That makes a lot more sense. That also explains what he had been missing too. Tony was the first person he talked to. He knew that at the time, but the ramifications weren’t fully clear either. Genius he is, but that’s with circuits and numbers, not people. It’s not much of a surprise that he missed it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony nods his understanding. “It’s ok,” he mutters. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not,” he insists, “but thank you. I was hoping that we could start over? I haven’t heard - much - about you, but Peggy has always had a good judge of character. You’re clearly a good kid.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That is a telling pause there. Obviously he’s heard something, but nothing he wants to admit to. That must mean Howrd has been his charming self as always. “Not a kid,” he protests instead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a spitfire is what you are,” Aunt Peggy says fondly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your favorite kind of person right?” Captain America asks with a grin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not sure who is worse,” she sighs, “You or my godson here.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“With you as a godmother then it’s a real mystery where he learned it from I’m sure.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do seem to get stuck with the stubborn and sassy,” she laments. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Captain America just laughs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They move on to other topics then, ignoring Tony and catching up. He doesn’t mind. Normally he hates being talked over like he isn’t in the room, but this is nice. Listening to them tease each other, catch up, the bittersweet as well as the laughter. It’s comforting in a way that he rarely feels. It’s almost like being with Ana and Jarvis, but not quite. Aunt Peggy has Uncle Daniel now and it’s not as if they are quite flirting. They sound like old friends, separated for too long. Listening to them is - good. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not as if he’s up to any real conversation right now anyways. Not with his head the mess that it is. Too many thoughts and emotions getting in the way of each other. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Messy</span>
  </em>
  <span>. So he continues to listen, snickering occasionally at their more outrageous stories. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe Captain America doesn’t hate him after all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next three days are filled with more of the same as Aunt Peggy managed to get that much time off of work before she has to go back. Time with his godmother and time with Captain America - with Steve. He is supposed to call him Steve now. He does with a thrill. He’s waiting for that to wear off before he begins with the nicknames. He already has a number of them lined up too. But that can wait until this new thing starts to feel less fragile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After three days though he is done. Aunt Peggy is gone, Howard is stalking the halls and Cap - Steve is just so damn earnest when he isn’t completely lost. Tony needs time to get away. As well he feels guilty about staying away from the tunnels for so long. What if Terminator thinks Tony has abandoned him? What if he didn’t have anything to eat during that time? What if, what if, what if. What terrible things. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So the next day sees a return of his habit, getting up early and fleeing while he still can. When he arrives he is mildly surprised when no one appears right away, but not overly so. It’s not as if Tony thinks Terminator’s life </span>
  <em>
    <span>revolves</span>
  </em>
  <span> around him. Obviously it doesn’t. It’s just that, well, they had been spending so much time together lately. But this is clearly what Tony gets for disappearing for three days. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he wanders. By now he has much of the tunnel system mapped out so he knows where he is going. That had been fun. He still hadn’t run into many people. A few of the usual, but that’s all. Otherwise he had the run of the place. Odd, but then maybe his shadow was scaring everyone else off. Stranger things had happened certainly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By time lunch rolls around he is starting to feel discouraged. He has heard neither hair nor peep from his shadow - or anything else for that matter. No hidden eyes watching him, no creepy yet safe feeling, no silent company. Nothing. It’s as if he vanished into thin air. There is no evidence of his presence - not that there ever was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abandoned by his shadow. How very Peter Pan. He shouldn’t be surprised. Everyone gets sick of Tony eventually, one way or another. No one stays forever. He isn’t worth it. Not really. So is this really that much of a surprise? Didn’t Tony start it first anyways? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The tunnels take on a different tone now. They were creepy before, even sinister at times. But knowing he is here, alone? Once that would have been fine. Great even. Just what he wanted. Now there is a new edge of terror to the knowledge. As if the shadows of the tunnel swallowed Terminator up. As if they are coming for Tony next. The thought stays with him, refusing to leave him be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By time he finally exits he is shakier than he has been in a while. Not since he first met Terminator. When did everything change? When did Tony become so attached? He isn’t sure and he isn’t sure if he likes it. Not if this is the result. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He returns even more dejected than when he left. It’s supper time and he knows that if he goes looking then he’ll find Ana, Jarvis and possibly Steve all in the kitchen eating. Normally he loves the idea, but not today. Today he’d either have to pretend like nothing is wrong or put up with worried looks and pointed questions, depending on the person. Steve in particular has this way of stubbornly hovering and never giving up when it comes to certain things. Mother henning more like. It’s - both annoying and comforting in a way. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So no, company is out. Instead he goes straight to his room, intent on doing - something productive. No one will expect him back this early so he will be left alone for a while. But when he opens his door he lets out a shocked yelp before closing it quickly. He is not alone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There, standing in the middle of his room in parade rest, is Terminator. The shadow himself. Out in broad daylight. It is enough to  get his heart racing again. “How did you get in here? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why</span>
  </em>
  <span> are you here?” he demands even as happiness burns bright in his chest. He hasn’t been abandoned after all. He hasn’t been discarded or gotten rid of. He didn’t come to his shadow, so his shadow came to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You did not return,” he says simply. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Add guilt to that happiness then. “Yeah, Aunt Peggy came to visit and I don’t see her as often as I’d like. Sorry. But that doesn’t answer my question pumpkin. Why are you here? Did something happen? Or did you miss me that much?” He asks the last sweetly, fluttering his eyes with a grin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You did not return,” he repeats, “Your handler has not been pleased with you. Punishment is necessary to correct undesirable behavior.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony lets that soak in for a minute, thinking about it from all angles. Is there any way to interpret that that </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> sound terrible and horrifying? No. No there isn’t. “You came to find me because you thought that I was being punished?” Somehow he gets the feeling they aren’t talking about groundings or anything so innocent here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nods. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A sinking feeling fills his stomach, replacing everything else. “Is that what they did to you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Asset needs punishment to remember its place. The Asset needs maintenance and reminders to keep functioning correctly. Failure to do so results in punishments.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony feels sick. He knew that something was wrong. He knew something was </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> wrong, but he never expected anything like this. How in the world is he supposed to deal with something like this? He can barely handle his own problems, let alone someone else’s. Let alone something like </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Still he is going to try because it is too late to turn back now. He’s gotten attached. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s not the only one either thankfully. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have a room,” he says next, “Items beyond what is necessary for projects. Improper containment facilities. I do not understand.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The feeling of dread only grows more the longer he talks. “Because this </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> my room. In my house.” He can’t quite bring himself to say home, even now. “What were you expecting to find?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Asset has the Chair for recalibration and cryo for storage when not in use.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he thought he would find more of the same when he went looking for Tony. Or something similar enough that he had been worried. Yikes. And here he thought Howard was the worst thing that could happen to him. How naive. Stupid. He should know that things can always get worse. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Always</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That is the way of the world.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Doesn’t stop the queasiness in his stomach from growing though. He is going to be sick. Ruthlessly he bites down on his tongue to keep that from happening. “No. No, pumpkin, sugar pie, Terminator, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no.</span>
  </em>
  <span> That is not how it works. That’s not how it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to work. You are human, even if you don’t feel like it.” And no wonder. He certainly hasn’t been treated like one. “You are </span>
  <em>
    <span>human</span>
  </em>
  <span>. No matter what they did to you, you are. They were wrong. They were so </span>
  <em>
    <span>very fucking wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>are human</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stares at Tony as if he does not know what to make of that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Forget getting sick, Tony is going to repulsor some bastards. Right in the face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Asset,” he starts and then stops suddenly, frowning. That is either a very good sign or a very bad one. Tony knows which one he hopes for and he knows which one is more likely. Life is a bitch like that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what now?” he asks instead. Never let it be said that he does not know how to pick his battles. And this one is clearly going to be full on warfare. Marathon rather than a sprint. Honestly it sounds painful either way. Tony hates running. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A blank stare is his answer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” he grins, “how about a sleepover? I’ve always wanted one, but that would mean having things like friends or people who you can trust not to stab you in the back. Inconvenient that. I mean I have my platypus now and we have a sleepover everyday, but that’s because we live with each other now. It’s just not the same.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sleep over?” Terminator asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right,” Tony nods, “according to movies it’s where friends spend the night, stay up late talking about, well, mainly secrets and boys and paint each other’s fingernails. Sounds great right? Come on, you know you want to.” Now that he is here, Tony doesn’t want to leave him out of his sight for a second. Already he is beginning to feel more centered. Positive attention really does make a difference. Who knew? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Parameters... acceptable.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great,” Tony beams, “you have any cute boys to talk about? No? Shame. I currently have one living under my roof and if it weren’t for all the Daddy Issues attached to him and the fact that he has a </span>
  <em>
    <span>history</span>
  </em>
  <span> with Aunt Peggy, I’d be tempted. Who wouldn’t want to tap that? The posters do not lie. Captain America is a dreamboat.” See?  Boundaries. He has them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Terminator, if it is possible, freezes at the name. He was already still before, but now he might as well be a statue. “Captain America?” he repeats. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right. I told you about him right? I mean, I had to. I couldn’t have spent all of our time complaining about Howard could I? What a waste. Man does not deserve that much time or effort. But yeah, anyways, Captain America. Steve. I am officially on </span>
  <em>
    <span>first name basis</span>
  </em>
  <span> with the man himself, Captain Steven Grant Rogers, no the shine still hasn’t worn off yet. It’s enough to alight my shriveled, cynical heart with joy.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There is an odd... not expression on Terminator’s face.l That is the best way to describe it. It’s not exactly blank, but it’s not exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> either. It’s weird. “A handler?” he asks, not-expression leaking into his tone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A friend,” Tony corrects. Or at least Steve seems to think they are. Give him some time to really get to know Tony, he’ll change his mind then. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Terminator just nods. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So?” he pushes, “you’re going to stay right? This is way better than the tunnels. I mean the atmosphere isn’t the same, I’ll give you that. It’s much more light here and not,” he waves a hand, “something straight out of a horror movie. Which you totally made work, no worries there. But how about switching genres for a bit? How do you feel about... hmm. Drama? Coming of Age? Chick flicks? No romance here, sorry sweetheart, but I get the feeling that’s not what kind of story we’re telling here.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They have a sleepover. It’s probably the oddest one he has ever had. First of all there is more hygiene and less makeovers involved. Tony practically pushes Terminator into the shower because oh boy, does he ever need one. You can tell that he has been living in the tunnels for a while now. That hair alone. And the faux bondage gear. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh boy</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Basically nothing Tony has is big enough for him, but they make it work. Mainly because he stored away some of Rhodey’s clothes when he left. Those almost fit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The mask goes too. There is no way Tony is letting him put it back on now that it is off. Terminator doesn’t seem too upset about that fortunately. All of his old things are thrown into a corner to be taken care of later. Preferably when Tony is able to burn all of it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There aren’t any manis or pedis either, but Tony is able to stare at the arm, so that counts right? It should. It is both a marvel and a goddamn monstrosity. Sure Tony knew that it went all the way up, but until now he had never considered how it attached to the rest of his body. Not beyond a scientific curiosity anyways. Clearly he should have. The entire of his shoulder is a mass of raised, angry scars. Not a pretty picture. At all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s no touching either, as much as he may want to. It’s no fun when both parties aren’t consenting. The worst part is probably squashing the urge to find some magnets to stick all over it, but then that’s his sense of humour right there. It’s not exactly a surprise. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jarvis delivers him supper and Terminator hides out of view. He also refuses to share Tony’s meal with him. Later, when everyone is asleep, he goes to raid the kitchen. Then Terminator finishes all he is given. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There is exactly as much sleep as you would expect, given Tony’s insomnia and Terminator’s - whatever he has going. Probably best not to ask. He does catch a couple of hours right before dawn, but that is about it. He isn’t sure if Terminator gets any sleep at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even better - the sleepover technically never ends. Once Terminator arrives he never bothers to leave. Why? Tony has no idea. He’s kind of afraid to ask honestly. He suspects that he won’t like the answer. The word cryo haunts him still. Sci fi and horror and no thank you, Tony does not wish to view. It’s probably rated R anyways. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Whatever the reason Tony soaks it in like a slightly wary flower in the sun. If flowers can be wary. Cat? Cats can be wary. And grumpy. And - well. Point. Tony soaks it in all the while waiting for the other shoe to drop. He is too happy right now. Something has to go wrong. And there are so many things that it can be, a fair number of them living right under his roof. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s worth it though. Slowly, ever so slowly and painfully - or at least that’s what it seems like to Tony - Terminator comes alive. Starts growing into a real boy and not whatever puppet he had been turned into. A personality starts to emerge. Not a lot, but hints. Those hints delight Tony to no end. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then there’s the fact that he sees more of Tony - not the Stark heir or whatever other mask he has to wear, but just Tony himself - and doesn’t run. Doesn’t get annoyed or exasperated or anything. He just takes all of Tony, whatever he gives him, with acceptance. How bizarre is that? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It only encourages Tony to get - even more - attached though. He spends far too much time with Terminator and not enough time with anyone else, including Steve. He’s probably neglecting him - no probably about it, going by the sad look he sometimes gives Tony - but he still gets overwhelmed by it all. The Issues, the Hovering and Mother Henning, the Lost Puppy Dog Eyes, the - Everything. And yes, those capitals are most definitely needed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rome wasn’t built in a day and this storm has been brewing for a long time now. Sixteen years worth of maelstrom just waiting to be unleashed. Hopefully everyone survives when it finally is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When has he ever been that lucky though? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His ostrich approach officially ends the day that the reckoning - Howard - catches up with him. He stops Tony just feet outside of his room. So close, but alas, so far. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anthony,” he barks, growl already present in his voice. Such a good sign, that. “Where have you been, boy? Do you think that you can just disappear like that? Ignore all of your responsibilities? I know you're a lazy layabout, but you can at least pretend to be useful.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yes, very charming. Clearly it is not just Tony that is bothering him, but something else. Tony just happens to be the easiest target. He straightens his shoulders and sneers. “Useful? Me? You must be thinking of your other son. I’m not even good at that, remember?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Howard’s face takes on a red hue. “You ungrateful little brat. You’re determined to spoil everything for me aren’t you? Never know when to keep your mouth shut, never know when to shut up and do as you’re told. You think </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> hard on you? Be thankful you never met your grandfather. There was a hard man. He wasn’t afraid to tan the hide out of someone who deserved it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me guess,” Tony drawls as his own temper begins to rise, “I should be grateful for the verbal abuse because you haven’t resorted to physical, right? Yeah, that’s a real comfort right there. How ever did you know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Howard clenches his fist. “Don’t be so dramatic Anthony. Crying abuse like this is a sign of weak character. Of attention seeking. It belittles those in need of actual help. I always knew you were a crybaby, but there are some lines you do not cross.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bite me,” Tony snaps back. It is the politest thing that he can say in the moment. ‘If you have nothing nice to say then say nothing at all’ has never really applied to the Starks. It’s not in their nature to know when to shut up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe I should teach you a lesson,” Howard threatens, stepping closer, “Maybe I should -” That’s as far as he gets before there is a blur of motion and suddenly they are not alone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Terminator is there, standing in front of Tony, shielding him with his body. His right hand rests against Tony’s stomach while the metal one is raised, poised, for the first sign of threat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who the hell are you?” Howard demands, “Where did you come from?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You will not touch him,” Terminator growls, tone low and dangerous. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It makes the hairs on Tony’s neck stand up. At the same time all a wave of relief nearly knocks him over. Because Terminator is dangerous, yes, there is no doubt about that, but he is not dangerous to Tony. That is all that matters to him in the moment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s never claimed to be anything but selfish. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Howard shifts his stance, clearly aware of the danger as well. “I won’t ask again. Who are you? What do you want?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Terminator doesn’t answer, simply continues to - presumably - glare at Howard. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get away from my son,” he snaps. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At this point Tony is fairly sure he is dreaming. Or hallucinating. What other reason is there for Howard suddenly giving a damn about him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatever you want, you will not use my son to get it. Stark Industries has a strict no ransom policy.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Okay then, that makes more sense. Howard always hates when Tony gets himself kidnapped. As if it is somehow </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> fault for ‘letting it happen’ because he is ‘too weak to fend for himself’. Whatever. Tony usually has bigger things to concern himself with at the time than Howard’s temper tantrums. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And like magic, number four appears. “What is going on?” Steve asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony can see him taking in the situation and - clear as day - come to the wrong conclusion. Admittedly it isn’t hard. This has to look pretty bad from an outside point of view. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine, I’m fine, everything is fine here,” he rushes to reassure even as Steve adjusts his stance. “No need to do anything rash on my account.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And here I thought Peggy would have taught you better. I hardly need the excuse.” With those reassuring words of wisdom he launches himself at Terminator. His intent is clear as he does, He is trying to give Tony a chance to run. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Too bad that is the last thing he wants. “No,” he shouts. He gets knocked away from the two as Terminator blocks the first hit with his metal arm. He doesn’t even move. Not a flinch or a twitch. He side steps Steve and moves to swipe his feet out from under him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve dodges in time, but just barely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony has to do something. If he doesn't, someone is going to get hurt. Ironic that they are both doing this to protect Tony. Too bad he is too busy to laugh. Well in for a penny, in for a pound. He dives in front of them, hoping to break them up. Not the greatest plan, but it’s not as if he has time for more. The gauntlets are definitely out, even if he wasn’t deadly determined to never let Howard know of their existence. Ever. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It works. Somewhat. Terminator draws back automatically, avoiding Tony with grace and precision. The problem comes when Steve tries to do the same. He has already thrown a punch and his eyes widen as he tries to pull back. Too late. He is already too far into the swing. Tony braces himself for impact even as he is pulled out of the way. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It isn’t enough. Even with Terminator’s help and Steve managing to pull the blow Tony still goes flying into the wall with a thud. “Shit.” Yeah, ouch, he is going to feel that in the morning. He knows because he is already feeling it now. Oh the joys of super strength. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Terminator is by his side in an instant. “Stay still,” he commands. Carefully, more gently expected considering the power in those limbs, he reaches out and examines the back of his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ouch,” Tony complains, but doesn’t move away. In fact he takes this as an excuse to move closer still. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Terminator pulls his hand away. There isn’t any blood on it, which is a good sign. That doesn’t stop him from giving Steve a glare fierce enough to kill. It has to look even worse because, as Tony is only now registering, he has the mask back on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve doesn’t  move towards them, but he doesn’t relax either. He takes in the scene with assessing eyes. Damn. Is this one going to be hard to explain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell are you doing?” Howard asks, still angry and red in the face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He is treated to two separate, equally angry, glares. And Tony isn’t one of them. Honestly this entire thing just might be worth it if he gets to see Steve glare at Howard. What a treat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks Terminator,” Tony pats him on the arm, “but how about we save the get up for Halloween huh? Steve can pull out his uniform and you can be the scary, scary shadow then. For now let’s see that pretty face of yours.” Carelessly he reaches up to remove the mask. It takes the work of moments before it falls to the ground beside them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bucky?” Steve gasps the instant it does. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky? Tony repeats the name in his head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bucky</span>
  </em>
  <span>? There is only one Bucky that Tony knows of, especially when pertaining to Captain America. Sergeant Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers’ best friend and the only Howlie to die during the war besides Cap himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except not, if what Steve says is to be trusted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Terminator - he doesn’t deny it. He doesn’t rush to confirm it either, but he makes no protest to the name. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Bucky</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Steve repeats again. He sounds wrecked. He reaches his hand out as if to touch, but doesn’t step any closer. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Bucky</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Punk,” Terminator finally says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve chokes on a laugh. It sounds distinctly wet. “What, what the hell Buck? What are you doing here? How are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive</span>
  </em>
  <span>? I thought, I thought,” he chokes up again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d like to know the same thing too,” Howard demands. He is treated to another matching pair of glares. Glorious. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Terminator - and Tony should probably start calling him by his actual name now, shouldn’t he - gives Steve the driest look imaginable. It makes the desert look like an ocean. “Hail HYDRA,” he deadpans. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve chokes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Howard swears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony - Tony now has a place to begin. He promised himself to repulsor some bastards right in the face after all. That there are likely more bastards than he first assumed is not enough to deter him. Not in the least. Starks keep their promises.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There is really only one thing to do after that - they call Aunt Peggy</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>:::</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aunt Peggy sweeps into the room like the most competent hurricane ever. “Sergeant Barnes,” she nods as she takes in the scene. Terminator - Bucky - is on the couch with Tony pulled against his side. Steve is sitting in one of the chairs off to the side. Howard has been delegated to the couch farest away from them as possible while still being in the same room. Both are regarded with supreme wariness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hasn’t let either of the other two near him even for a second. Clearly someone is holding a grudge. He never thought he’d see the day when Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers were on different sides. Not after hearing all the stories. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Things have obviously changed, however. And not because Steve accidentally punched him either. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Carter,” he nods, proving that yes, he does know everyone on sight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is this about HYDRA now?” Efficient as always, even in the face of such a shock. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cut one head off, another will grow back,” he answers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony snorts. “They do realize that their symbol is an octopus right? Not a hydra. Not very smart of them if you ask me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We didn’t,” Howard says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up Howard,” Termin - Bucky snaps. Then he considers. “Likely not.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>How</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” he waves a hand around, “I mean, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>right there</span>
  </em>
  <span> with the whole head thing. Multiple legs, not heads. They aren’t killer starfish after all.” Then he pauses, “Are there such things? Can starfish go rogue? Serial killer starfish?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Focus Tony,” Aunt Peggy reminds him. She fixes him with a Look. “If you are so eager to talk then you may explain why you and the Sergeant are so well acquainted.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Funny story, that,” he grins innocently. No one looks especially impressed at that. What a shame. Of course the entire story comes out in the end. Of course it does. Tony had been doomed as soon as Aunt Peggy walked into the room. Yeah, the whole ‘not impressed with Tony’ thing grows even stronger the longer he talks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just what were you thinking?” Howard says, beating them all to it, “How reckless, irresponsible -” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up Howard,” both Bucky and Steve snap. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And just what were you doing in the tunnels in the first place Sergeant?” Aunt Peggy asks. The look she gives Tony promises that they are not finished, not by a long shot, but there are still other things she needs to know. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Ass -” he stops himself, “They left me out too long without recalibrating me. I did not remember who I was, but I remembered enough to escape.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There is a moment of horrified silence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Chair,” Tony growls, “Cryo.” They didn’t need context to sound terrible before, but now that he has it, it is even worse. Yeah. That’s it. Forget repulsor to the face. He is going to burn all of them to the ground. With vengeance. Let’s see them get back up after a Stark is through with them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Would you look at that? Some of Howard's lessons are useful after all. Who would have thought? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then Bucky begins to explain what he knows. What he remembers. What he went through. It is through only sheer stubbornness that Tony does not get sick listening to it. And this is only the tip of the iceberg. There is so much more hidden under years of brain damage and brainwashing. What a nightmare. Literally. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Tony thought the silence was bad before then it is nothing compared to now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“SHIELD is compromised,” Aunt Peggy says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Everything</span>
  </em>
  <span> is compromised,” Bucky corrects, “The heads live on in the shadows, waiting for the time when they can once again come into the light.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anyone ever tell you that you do the creepy, scary assassin thing very well? Because you do. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Really</span>
  </em>
  <span> well. A plus and everything. Gold star for you. Might want to lay up on it before someone gets the wrong idea, but your performance is spot on.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anthony -” Howard starts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up Howard,” all three of the others interrupt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Glor-i-ous</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Yes please. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He has a point Buck. Stop being such a punk about it. That’s supposed to be my job, remember?” Somehow he probably shouldn’t sound so happy about that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky snorts. “Punk One,” he points to Steve, “Punk Two,” he pats Tony on the arm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yeah, no, Tony probably shouldn’t be so happy about that either. That doesn’t sound like something to be proud of. He is though. He can blame his issues on that right? He has enough of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No wonder why you’re so attached then,” Steve smiles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That isn’t something to be proud of,” Howard mutters. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everyone ignores him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You ever going to let me hug you jerk?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky eyes him warily. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on,” Steve coaxes, smile growing, “you know you want to.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stubborn,” Bucky mutters before nodding. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Glad you remember.” He is at their couch in three large strides. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hard to forget.” He tenses, clearly preparing himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But instead of coming around the side of the couch Steve sits next to Tony and pulls them both towards him. Suddenly Tony is the filling to a very interesting sandwich. Oh wow. The warmth coming off of Steve. The warmth coming off of </span>
  <em>
    <span>both</span>
  </em>
  <span> of them. Having a buffer obviously helps because Bucky relaxes some. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Humph,” Tony huffs when his hold gets to be too tight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That makes Bucky tense again, glaring and trying to pull away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Tony whines, determined to keep both of them right where they are. Warmth is good. Breathing is too, but the </span>
  <em>
    <span>warmth</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Tony is never letting them go ever again. He looks up to find Aunt Peggy eyeing the three of them with fond exasperation. He grins brightly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shakes her head. “Boys, focus. We have an evil organization to take down, remember?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just like old times,” Steve grins. Yet another thing not to sound so happy about. So inappropriate. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clearly Tony is in excellent company. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky snorts. “Use a parachute this time punk.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s more fun without it, jerk.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yeah. Good company is right. Tony is never going to lack for sass partners again. Rhodey is going to be so jealous when he hears about this. Who says exploring is a bad thing? Not every horror movie ends in disaster. Although they have probably switched genres again. Thriller? Action? That one sounds about right. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How do action movies end again? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Listening to everyone bicker and plan above his head he decides that it doesn't matter. Things are going to get interesting either way. Call him naive, but the dream team has assembled once again. How can they lose? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And thus HYDRA is taken down early, Howard and Maria are never assassinated and Steve and Bucky decide that they are now the ones raising Tony along with the Jarvis' and Peggy. Everyone lives Happily Ever After. (As much as can be, considering who you are talking about.) (Unless you're Howard or HYDRA, but they don't count.)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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